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Claudio  :      -'He  hath  ta'en  the  infection  :  hold  it  up" 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing    Act  II     Scene  j 


Copyright,    1 90 1 

By 

THE    UNIVERSITY    SOCIETY 


MUCH   ADO   ABOUT   NOTHING. 


Preface. 


COLLEG 
LIBRARY 


The  Editions,  A  quarto  edition  of  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing  was  published  in  1600  with  the  following  title- 
page: — "Much  Adoe About  Nothing  as  it  hath  been  sun- 
drie  times  pubiikely  acted  by  the  right  honourable  the  Lord 
Chamberlain  his  servants  Written  by  William  Shakespeare. 
London.'  (It  had  previously  been  entered  on  the  Sta- 
tioners' Register,  August  23,  1600.)  No  other  edition  is 
known  to  have  been  published  previous  to  the  publica- 
tion of  the  First  Folio,  1623 ;  the  play  was  evidently 
printed  from  a  copy  of  a  Quarto  in  the  possession  of  the 
Theatre,  or  of  the  original  MS.,  corrected  for  the  pur- 
poses of  the  Stage.  {Cp.  Facsimile  Quarto  Edition,  ed. 
by  Mr.  Daniel.)  There  are  many  minor  variations  be- 
tween the  Quarto  and  the  First  Folio,  but  most  of  them 
seem  due  to  the  printer's  carelessness. 

Date  of  Composition.  As  the  play  is  not  mentioned 
by  jMeres,  in  1598,  and  was  printed  in  1600,  it  may  be 
safely  assigned  to  the  year  iggq,  in  support  of  which  date 
the  following  points  are  noteworthy: — (i)  Probable  allu- 
sion in  the  opening  scene  to  a  circumstance  attending  the 
campaign  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  in  Ireland,  during  the 
summer  of  1599 ;  (2)  the  character  of  ''  Amorphus,  or  the 
one  Deformed,"  in  Cynthia's  Revels,  1600,  may  be  com- 
pared with  "  the  one  Deformed,  a  vile  thief  this  seven 
year"  {cp.  III.  iii.  133-5,  175,  178)  ;  (3)  the  instructions 
which  Dogberry  and  Verges  give  to  the  night-watch  may 
possibly  be  intended  as  a  burlesque  on  The  Statutes  of  the 
Streets,  imprinted  by  Wolfe,  in  1595. 


Preface  MUCH  ADO 

Source  of  Plot.  The  incident  of  the  interrupted  mar- 
riage is  identical  with  the  story  of  Adriodante  and  Gi- 
nevra  in  Ariosto's  Orlando  Furioso,  Canto  v. ;  this  had 
been  translated  into  English  by  Beverly  in  1565,  and  by 
Harrington  in  1591.  The  story  was  dramatised  before 
1582,  and  was  rendered  into  English  verse  by  George 
Turbervile.  Later  on  it  found  a  place  in  Spenser's  Fairy 
Queen,  Book  ii.  Canto  iv.  Shakespeare  may,  however, 
have  derived  his  story  from  Belief orest  s  transbrion  in  bis 
Histoires  Tra^iaiics  of  Bandello^s  22nd  Novella.  It  is 
noteworthy  that  about  the  same  time  the  German  Dram- 
atist, Jacob  Ayrer,  founded  his  play  Beautiful  Phoenicia 
upon  the  same  tale,  and  the  English  and  German  plays 
have  certain  points  of  resemblance.  Possibly  they  were 
both  indebted  to  a  lost  original  {cp.  Colin's  Shakespeare 
in  Germany).  Dr.  Ward  sums  up  the  evidence  as  fol- 
lows : — "  As  the  date  of  Ayrer's  piece  is  not  known — it 
may  have  been  written  before  or  after  1600 — and  as  that 
of  Shakspere's  is  similarly  uncertain,  it  is  impossible  to 
decide  as  to  their  relative  priority.  That,  however, 
Ayrer  did  not  copy  from  Shakspere  seems,  as  Simrock 
points  out,  clear  from  the  names  of  the  characters  in  his 
play,  which  follow  Bandello,  while  Shakspere  has  changed 
alT^the^namas,  except  those  of  Don  Pedro  and  old  L^n- 
ata" 

General  Characteristics.  The  mixture  of  tragedy 
and  comedy  in  this  play  is  so  perfectly  blended  that  it  may 
well  be  regarded  as  the  culminating  point  of  Shake- 
speare's second  period  of  activity,  the  period  to  which 
belong  Twelfth  Night,  As  You  Like  It,  and  The  Merry 
Wives;  the  metrical  tests  actually  place  it  last  in  this 
group.  Beatrice  and  Benedick  should  be  compared  with 
their  prototypes,  Rosaline  and  Biron,  and  Dogberry  and 
his  comrades  should  be  contrasted  with  the  earlier  clowns, 
in  order  to  understand  the  advance  which  this  play  marks 
in  Shakespeare's  career.  *'  Perhaps,"  says  Hazlitt,  '*  the 
middle  point  of  comedy  was  never  more  nicely  hit,  in 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Preface 


which  the  ludicrous  blends  with  the  tender,  and  our 
follies,  turning  round  against  themselves,  in  support  of 
our  affections,  retain  nothing  but  their  humanity." 

Later  Versions  of  the  Play.  Two  plays  were  founded 
upon  Much  Ado  About  Nothing — (i)  Davenant's  Laiv 
against  Lovers,  which  Pepys  saw  on  Feb.  i8th,  1661,  and 
(2)  The  Universal  Passion,  by  Rev.  James  Miller,  1737. 

Duration  of  Action.  For  a  detailed  study  of  the 
"  time  "  of  the  play  the  reader  is  referred  to  Mr.  Daniel's 
"'  Time-Analysis,"  Trans,  of  Nezu  Shaks.  Soc.  1877-79,  p. 
144.  He  believes  that  just  as  the  Prince  forgets  his  de- 
termination to  stay  "  at  least  a  month"  at  Messino,  so  the 
"  just  seven-night  "  to  the  wedding  was  also  either  for- 
gotten or  intentionally  set  aside,  and  that  only  four  con- 
secutive days  are  actually  included  in  the  "action  of  the 
drama — 

1.  Act  I.,  and  Act  II.  i.  and  ii. 

2.  Act  II.  iii.,  and  Act  III.  i.-iii. 

3.  Act  III.  iv.  and  v. ;  Act  IV. ;  Act  V.  i.  ii.,  and  part 

of  iii. 
4  Act  v.,  part  of  iii.,  and  iv. 


Watchman  with  bill,  lantern,  bell  and  dog. 

(From  a  woodcut  in  Decker  s  English  Villames, 

six  severall  Times  prest  to  Death 

by  the  Printers.) 


MUCH  ADO 


Critical  Comments. 
I. 

Argument. 

I.  Don  Pedro,  prince  of  Arragon,  comes  on  a  visit  to 
Leonato,  governor  of  Messina,  accompanied  by  Bene- 
dick and  Claudio,  two  young  noblemen  who  have  been 
serving  with  him  in  the  wars.  Between  Benedick  and 
Beatrice,  Leonato's  niece,  there  has  been  a  merry  war; 
so  that  "  they  never  meet  but  there  's  a  skirmish  of  wit 
between  them."  On  the  occasion  of  this  meeting  they 
are  true  to  their  reputations  for  antagonism.  Alean- 
while,  Claudio  is  attracted  once  again  by  Leonato's 
daughter,  Hero.  Don  Pedro  kindly  offers  to  sue  to  the 
lady  and  her  father  in  the  young  lord's  behalf. 

II.  A  masquerade  is  given  by  Leonato  in  honour  of 
visitors.  Don  Pedro  seizes  the  opportunity  to  woo 
Hero,  giving  her  to  think  that  he  is  Claudio.  Don  John, 
an  evil-minded  natural  brother  of  the  prince,  seeks  to 
poison  Claudio's  mind  by  telHng  him  that  Don  Pedro  is 
wooing  in  his  own  behalf;  and  Claudio's  spirits  droop  J^ 
until  the  lady  is  actually  promised  him  by  her  father/ 

Seeing  the  small  piece  of  villainv  come  to  naught,  Don 
John  plots  a  much  larger  ou£?/IBenedick,  on  his  part, 
fares  badly  at  the  masquerad^T^Beatrice  flouts  him  so 
sadly  that  he  is  on  the  point  of  forsaking  her  society 
henceforth,  when  their  friends,  believing  them  to  be  well 
matched,  decide  upon  a  ruse  to  arouse  their  mutual  affec- 
tions. Benedick  is  made  to  overhear  that  Beatrice  is  in 
love  with  him.    ^ 

III.  Beatrice  is  informed  in  the  same  fashion  that 
Benedick  loves  her.     Their  hearts  become  more  tender 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

towards  each  otb^ij  Don  Jx^hn's  evil  plans  are  maturing 
against  Hero  and  Claudjojfele  brings  Claudio  and  Don 
Pedro   beneath   her   window   on   the   night   before   her 
wedding-day,  and  makes  them  believe  that  they  are  wit- 
nessing a  meeting  between  her  and  some  secret  lover. 
The  artifice  is  caused  by  Borachio,  a  follower  of  Don 
John,  who  addresses  a  waiting-maid  as  Hero;  but  the 
night  is  too  dark  to  reveal  the  deception,  and  it  would 
probably  never  have  been  discovered  had  not  some  blun-  /^^^^^ 
dering  watchmen,  by  a  happy  chance,   overh^^   Bo~  ^  ^ 
rachio  telling  of  the  adventure.     They  seize  hii^-^d  try  j^p^*^ 
to  inform  Leonato;  but  the  latter,  busied  with  the  ^^-^^y^aef 
rangements  for  the  marriage,  does  not  stop  to  listen  to  /^^^ 
their  rambling  narrative^o)  ,^-&<jl,  ^ 

IV.  Claudio  believes  Hero  faithless,  and  repudiates  flxe^ 
her  at  the  very  moment  of  the  nuptials.     Hero  swoons,.j^2^ 
and  by  the  advice  of  a  friar  it  is  given  out  that  she  '"^W  Aj 
dead.     Beatrice  will  not  believe  her  cousin  guilty,  and         — 
demands   of    Benedick — who   has   avowed   his    love — a 
proof  of  his  devotion  in  the  shape  of  the  Hfe  of  Claudio, 

his  friend,  ^^^^^c  i      ., -f^^- j     >-., 

V.  Leonato  is  in  the  depths  of  despair  and  humiliation 
over  the  evil  report  concerning  his  daughter.  He  up- 
braids Claudio  and  wishes  to  fight  him.  Benedick  chal- 
lenges Claudio.  The  testimony  of  the  watchmen  finally 
comes  to  light,  revealing  the  plot  of  Don  John  and  the 
innocence  of  Hero.  Claudio  sues  for  forgiveness,  which 
the  generous  Leonato  grants,  on  cpndition  that  Claudio 
wed  a  niece  who  is  said  to  be  much  like  Hero,  but  whose 

face  he  is  not  permitted  to  see  until  after  the  marriage  /  ^/jj 
ceremony  has  been  performed.  Claudio,  who  had  jDrpm-  ^ 
ised  any  penance,  willingly  consents  to  thisTl^'^His^hS^pi-  l>^ 
ness,  therefore,  is  made  perfect  when  the  masked  lady  fVc*-' 
proves  to  be  Hero,  whom  he  has  been  mourning  as  dead.  .^O 
While  Beatrice  and  Benedick,  although  they  find  out  the  ^  ^q^ 
trick  that  has  brought  them  together,  are  not  sorry  for  it,  "t  'Tj 
but  stop  their  bickerings  with  a  kiss,    r^  tx^^^  ^  v^^^^O^. 

McSpadden:  Shakespearian  Synopses.  \    •{    k\ 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

II. 
Beatrice. 

Shakspeare  has  exhibited  in  Beatrice  a  spirited  and 
faithful  portrait  of  the  fine  lady  of  his  own  time.  The 
deportment,  language,  manners  and  allusions  are  those 
of  a  particular  class  in  a  particular  age;  but  the  indi- 
vidual and  dramatic  character  which  forms  the  ground- 
work is  strongly  discriminated,  and  being  taken  from 
general  nature,  belongs  to  every  age.  In  Beatrice,  high 
intellect  and  high  animal  spirits  meet,  and  excite  each 
other  like  fire  and  air.  In  her  wit  (which  is  brilliant 
without  being  imaginative)  there  is  a  touch  of  insolence, 
not  infrequent  in  women  when  the  wit  predominates  over 
reflection  and  imagination.  In  her  temper,  too,  there  is 
a  slight  infusion  of  the  termagant;  and  her  satirical 
humour  plays  with  such  an  unrespective  levity  over  all 
subjects  alike,  that  it  required  a  profound  knowledge  of 
women  to  bring  such  a  character  within  the  pale  of  our 
sympathy.  But  Beatrice,  though  wilful,  is  not  wayward ; 
she  is  volatile,  not  unfeeling.  She  has  not  only  an  exu- 
berance of  wit  and  gayety,  but  of  heart,  and  soul,  and 
energy  of  spirit;  and  is  no  more  like  the  fine  ladies  of 
modern  comedy — whose  wat  consists  in  a  temporary 
illusion,  or  a  play  upon  words,  and  whose  petulance  is 
displayed  in  a  toss  of  the  head,  a  flirt  of  the  fan,  or  a 
flourish  of  the  pocket  handkerchief; — than  one  of  our 
modern  dandies  is  like  Sir  Philip  Sidney: 

In  Beatrice,  Shakspeare  has  contrived  that  the  poetry 
of  the  character  shall  not  only  soften,  but  heighten  its 
comic  effect.  We  are  not  only  inclined  to  forgive  Bea- 
trice ah  her  scornful  airs,  all  her  biting  jests,  all  her 
assumption  of  superiority;  but  they  amuse  and  delight  us 
the  more,  when  we  find  her,  with  all  the  headlong  sim- 
plicity of  a  child,  falling  at  once  into  the  snare  laid  for 
her  affections;  when  we  see  her,  who  thought  a  man  of 
God's  making  not  good  enough  for  her,  who  disdained 

6 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

to  be  o'ermastered  by  "  a  piece  of  valiant  dust,"  stooping 
like  the  rest  of  her  sex,  veiling  her  proud  spirit,  and 
taming  her  wild  heart  to  the  loving  hand  of  him  whom 
she  had  scorned,  flouted,  and  misused,  "  past  the  endu- 
rance of  a  block."  And  we  are  yet  more  completely  won 
by  her  generous,  enthusiastic  attachment  to  her  cousin. 
When  the  father  of  Hero  believes  the  tale  of  her  guilt; 
when  Claudio,  her  lover,  without  remorse  or  a  lingering 
doubt,  consigns  her  to  shame;  when  the  Friar  remains 
silent,  and  the  generous  Benedick  himself  knows  not 
what  to  say,  Beatrice,  confident  in  her  affections,  and 
guided  only  by  the  impulses  of  her  own  feminine  heart, 
sees  through  the  inconsistency,  the  impossibility  of  the 
charge,  and  exclaims,  without  a  moment's  hesitation, 

O,  on  my  soul,  my  cousin  is  belied ! 

...  A  haughty,  excitable,  and  violent  temper  is  another 
of  the  characteristics  of  Beatrice ;  but  there  is  more  of  im- 
pulse than  of  passion  in  her  vehemence.  In  the  marriage 
scene  where  she  has  beheld  her  gentle-spirited  cousin — 
whom  she  loves  the  more  for  those  very  qualities  which 
are  most  unlike  her  own — slandered,  deserted,  and  de- 
voted to  public  shame,  her  indignation,  and  the  eager- 
ness with  which  she  hungers  and  thirsts  after  revenge, 
are,  like  the  rest  of  her  character,  open,  ardent,  impetu- 
ous, but  not  deep  or  implacable.  When  she  bursts  into 
that  outrageous  speech — 

Is  he  not  approved  in  the  height  a  villain,  that  hath  slandered, 
scorned,  dishonoured  my  kinswoman?  O  that  I  were  a  man! 
What !  bear  her  in  hand  until  they  come  to  take  hands ;  and  then, 
with  public  accusation,  uncovered  slander,  unmitigated  rancour — 
O  God,  that  I  were  a  man !  I  would  eat  his  heart  in  the  market- 
place ! 

And  when  she  commands  her  lover,  as  the  first  proof  of 
his  affection,  "  to  kill  Claudio,"  the  very  consciousness 
of  the  exaggeration, — of  the  contrast  between  the  real 
good  nature  of  Beatrice  and  the  fierce  tenor  of  her  Ian- 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

gnage,  keeps  alive  the  comic  effect,  mingling  the  ludi- 
crous with  the  serious.  It  is  remarkable  that,  notwith- 
standing the  point  and  vivacity  of  the  dialogue,  few  of 
the  speeches  of  Beatrice  are  capable  of  a  general  applica- 
tion, or  engrave  themselves  distinctly  on  the  memory; 
they  contain  more  mirth  than  matter;  and  though  wit  be 
the  predominant  feature  in  the  dramatic  portrait,  Bea- 
trice more  charms  and  dazzles  us  by  what  she  is  than  by 
what  she  says.  It  is  not  merely  her  sparkling  repartees 
and  saucy  jests,  it  is  the  soul  of  wit,  and  the  spirit  of 
gayety  informing  the  whole  character — looking  out  from 
her  brilliant  eyes,  and  laughing  on  the  full  lips  that  pout 
vvith  scorn — which  we  have  before  us,  moving  and  full 
of  life. 

Mrs.  Jameson  :   Characteristics  of  Women. 

III. 

Beatrice  Criticized  and  Defended. 

Mrs.  Jameson,  in  her  characters  of  Shakespeare,  con- 
cludes with  hoping  that  Beatrice  will  live  happy  with 
Benedick,  but  I  have  no  such  hope;  and  my  final  antici- 
pation in  reading  the  play  is  the  certainty  that  Beatrice 
will  provoke  her  Benedick  to  give  her  much  and  just 
conjugal  castigation.  She  is  an  odious  woman.  Her 
own  cousin  says  of  her: — 

"  Disdain  and  scorn  ride  sparkling  in  her  eyes, 
Misprising  what  they  look  on ;  and  her  wit 
Values  itself  so  highly,  that  to  her 
All  matter  else  seems  weak :  she  cannot  love, 
Nor  take  no  shape  nor  project  of  affection, 
She  is  so  self-endeared." 

I  once  knew  such  a  pair;  the  lady  was  a  perfect  Bea- 
trice; she  railed  hypocritically  at  wedlock  before  her 
marriage,  and  with  bitter  sincerity  after  it.  She  and  her 
Benedick  now  live  apart,  but  with  entire  reciprocity  of 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

sentiments,  each  devoutly  wishing  that  the  other  may 
soon  pass  into  a  better  world.  Beatrice  is  not  to  be 
compared,  but  contrasted,  with  Rosalind,  who  is  equally 
witty;  but  the  sparkling  sayings  of  Rosalind  are  like 
gems  upon  her  head  at  court,  and  like  dew-drops  on  her 
bright  hair  in  the  woodland  forest. 

Campbell:  Introduction  to  the  Play. 

We  extract  this  last  criticism,  partly  in  deference  to 
Campbell's  general  exquisite  taste  and  reverent  apprecia- 
tion of  Shakespeare's  genius,  and  partly  as  an  example  of 
the  manner  in  which  accidental  personal  associations  in- 
fluence taste  and  opinion.  The  critical  poet  seems  to 
have  unhappily  suffered  under  the  caprices  or  insolence 
of  some  accomplished  but  fantastical  female  wit,  whose 
resemblance  he  thinks  he  recognizes  in  Beatrice;  and 
then  vents  the  offences  of  the  belle  of  Edinburgh  or  Lon- 
don upon  her  prototype  of  Messina,  or  more  probably 
of  the  court  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Those  who,  without 
encountering  any  such  unlucky  cause  of  personal  preju- 
dice, have  looked  long  enough  upon  the  rapidly  passing 
generations  of  wits  and  beauties  in  the  gay  world  to  have 
noted  their  characters  ^s  they  first  appeared,  and  sub- 
sequently developed  themselves  in  after-life,  will  pro- 
nounce a  very  different  judgement.  Beatrice's  faults  are 
such  as  ordinarily  spring  from  the  consciousness  of 
talent  and  beauty,  accompanied  with  the  high  spirits  of 
youth  and  health,  and  the  play  of  a  lively  fancy.  Her 
brilliant  intellectual  qualities  are  associated  with  strong 
and  generous  feelings,  high  confidence  in  female  truth 
and  virtue,  warm  attachment  to  her  friends,  and  quick, 
undisguised  indignation  at  wrong  and  injustice.  There 
is  the  rich  material,  which  the  experience  and  the  sor- 
rows of  maturer  life,  the  affection  and  the  duties  of  the 
wife  and  the  mother,  can  gradually  shape  into  the  noblest 
forms  of  matronly  excellence;  and  such,  we  doubt  not, 
was  the  result  shown  in  the  married  life  of  Beatrice. 

Verplanck  :   The  Illustrated  Shakespeare. 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

IV. 

BenedicK. 

Benedick  betrays  a  lurking  partiality  for  his  fascina- 
ting enemy;  he  shows  that  he  has  looked  upon  her  with 
no  careless  eye  when  he  says, 

"There's  her  cousin  [meaning  Beatrice],  an  she  were  not 
possessed  with  a  fury,  excels  her  as  much  in  beauty  as  the  first  of 
May  does  the  last  of  December." 

Infinite  skill,  as  well  as  humour,  is  shown  in  making 
this  pair  of  airy  beings  the  exact  counterpart  of  each 
other;  but  of  the  two  portraits,  that  of  Benedick  is  by  far 
the  most  pleasing,  because  the  independence  and  gay 
indifference  of  temper,  the  laughing  defiance  of  love  and 
marriage,  the  satirical  freedom  of  expression,  common 
to  both,  are  more  becoming  to  the  mascuhne  than  to  the 
feminine  character.  Any  woman  might  love  such  a 
cavaher  as  Benedick,  and  be  proud  of  his  affection;  his 
valour,  his  wit,  and  his  gayety  sit  so  gracefully  upon 
him!  and  his  light  scoffs  against  the  power  of  love  are 
but  just  sufficient  to  render  more  piquant  the  conquest 
of  this  "  heretic  in  despite  of  beauty."  But  a  man  might 
well  be  pardoned  who  should  shrink  from  encountering 
such  a  spirit  as  that  of  Beatrice,  unless,  indeed,  he  had 
"  served  an  apprenticeship  to  the  taming-school." 

Mrs.  Jameson:   Characteristics  of  Women. 


The  wit  of  Benedick  .  .  .  springs  more  from  reflec- 
tion [than  that  of  Beatrice],  and  grows  with  the  growth 
of  thought.  With  all  the  pungency  and  nearly  all  the 
pleasantry,  it  lacks  the  free,  spontaneous  volubility,  of 
hers.  Hence  in  their  skirmishes  she  always  gets  the  better 
of  him.  But  he  makes  ample  amends  when  out  of  her 
presence,  trundling  of  jests  in  whole  paragraphs.  In 
short,  if  his  wit  be  slower,  it  is  also  stronger  than  hers : 
not  so  agile  in  manner,  more  weighty  in  matter,  it  shines 

10 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

less,  but  burns  more ;   and  as  it  springs  much  less  out  of 
the  occasion,  so  it  will  bear  repeating  much  better. 

Hudson:  The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 


Benedick's  first  greeting  of  Beatrice  is  as  Lady  Dis- 
dain, and  at  the  masked  ball  it  is  his  charge  against  her 
that  she  is  "  disdainful,"  and  disdain  is  a  complaint  that 
scarcely  occurs  but  to  a  lover ;  hence  it  is  Hero's  charge — 

"  No  truly,  Ursula,  she  is  too  disdainful, 
I  know  her  spirits  are  as  coy  and  wild 
As  haggards  of  the  rock." 

He  himself  betrays  himself,  when  he  places  his  "  simple 
true  judgement  "  of  a  lady,  in  opposition  to  his  "  custom 
as  professed  tyrant  to  the  sex."  When  Claudio  declares 
his  love  to  Don  Pedro,  Benedick  brings  in  his  own  senti- 
ments as  to  marriage,  and  turns  and  engrosses  the  whole 
conversation  on  his  proper  sentimental  idiosyncrasy,  with 
little  regard  for  poor  Claudio's  suspended  communication. 
After  a  sharp  encounter  with  the  lady,  he  can  still  indicate 
a  full  appreciation  of  her  beauty,  "  an  she  were  not  pos- 
sessed with  a  fury  ";  and  after  one  still  sharper,  when  she 
drops  a  word  that  is  almost  unpardonable — "  the  fool  will 
eat  no  supper,"  he  advances,  for  advance  It  is,  one  step 
nearer  to  self-knowledge  in  averring,  "  I  would  not  marry 

her  if "  it  matters  not  what  follows,  for  conditions 

were  indifferent  after  the  thought  was  once  fairly  enter- 
tained. It  is  comic  and  characteristic  that  the  acute,  the 
observant  Benedick,  never  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  true 
incitement  of  the  persecution  of  Beatrice ;  he  supposes  a 
base  or  bitter  disposition — anything  rather  than  the  truth 
that  at  heart  she  thoroughly  admires  him,  and  would  be 
pleased  and  flattered  to  be  admired  and  attended  to  in 
turn,  and  that  it  is  pique  and  not  contemptuousness  that 
arms  her  tongue.  Apparently  he  has  himself,  and  his 
self-sufificient  parade  of  superiority  to  Love — a  divinity 
who  will  not  be  insulted  with  impunity,  to  thank  for  his 
false  and  uncomfortable  position.    Beatrice  speaks  of  a 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

time  when  they  seem  to  have  had  more  peaceable  rela- 
tions, and  he  gained  a  heart  of  her,  though  it  proved  to 
be  with  false  dice;  indifference,  however,  is  almost  as  dire 
a  crime  as  treachery  in  a  court  of  love,  especially  in  the 
bachelor,  and  therefore  it  is  that  Benedick  suffers  most 
by  the  mutual  persecution,  and,  by  the  course  of  his  con- 
versation, is  justly  exposed  to  far  more  ridicule  than  at- 
taches to  Beatrice  in  her  recovery,  inasmuch  as  she, 
though  with  irregular  weapons,  was  at  least  vindicating 
the  natural  rights  of  her  beauty  and  attractions. 

Lloyd  :  Critical  Essays  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare, 

V. 

Benedick  and  Beatrice  Well  Matched. 

By  her  [Beatrice's]  side  Shakespeare  has  placed  Bene- 
dick, a  IMercutio  redivivus ;  a  youth  who  is  the  reverse 
of  amatory,  opposed  to  a  maiden  who  is  the  reverse  of 
tender.  He  abhors  betrothal  and  marriage  quite  as 
vehemently  as  she,  and  is,  from  the  man's  point  of  view, 
no  less  scornful  of  all  sentimentality  than  she,  from 
the  woman's;  so  that  he  and  she,  from  the  first,  stand 
on  a  warlike  footing  with  each  other.  In  virtue  of  a  pro- 
found and  masterly  psychological  observation,  Shake- 
speare presently  makes  these  two  suddenly  fall  in  love 
with  each  other,  over  head  and  ears,  for  no  better  reason 
than  that  their  friends  persuade  Benedick  that  Beatrice  is 
secretly  pining  for  love  of  him,  and  Beatrice  that  Bene- 
dick is  mortally  enamoured  of  her,  accompanying  this  in- 
formation with  high-flown  eulogies  of  both.  Their 
thoughts  were  already  occupied  with  each  other;  and 
now  the  amatory  fancy  flames  forth  in  both  of  them  all 
the  more  strongly,  because  it  has  so  long  been  banked 
down.  And  here,  where  everything  was  of  his  own  in- 
vention and  he  could  move  quite  freely,  Shakespeare  has 
with  delicate  ingenuity  brought  the  pair  together,  not  by 
means  of  empty  words,  but  in  a  common  cause,  Beatrice's 
first  advance  to  Benedick  taking  place  in  the  form  of  an 

12 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

appeal  to  him  for  chivalrous  intervention  in  behalf  of 
her  innocent  cousin. 

The  reversal  in  the  mutual  relations  of  Benedick  and 
Beatrice  is,  moreover,  highly  interesting  in  so  far  as  it  is 
probably  the  first  instance  of  anything  like  careful  char- 
acter-development which  we  have  as  yet  encountered  in 
any  single  play  of  Shakespeare's.  In  the  earlier  come- 
dies there  was  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  the  chronicle- 
plays  afforded  no  opportunity  for  it.  The  characters 
had  simply  to  be  brought  into  harmony  with  the  given 
historical  events,  and  in  every  case  Shakespeare  held 
firmly  to  the  character-scheme  once  laid  down.  Neither 
Richard  III.  nor  Henry  V.  presents  any  spiritual  history ; 
both  kings,  in  the  plays  which  take  their  names  from 
them,  are  one  and  the  same  from  first  to  last.  Enough 
has  already  been  said  of  Henry's  change  of  front  with 
respect  to  FalstafT  in  Henry  /F. ;  we  need  only  remark 
further  that  here  the  old  play  of  The  Famous  Victories 
unmistakably  pointed  the  way  to  Shakespeare.  But  this 
melting  of  all  that  is  hard  and  frozen  in  the  natures  of 
Benedick  and  Beatrice  is  without  a  parallel  in  any  earher 
work,  and  is  quite  plainly  executed  con  amore.  And  the 
real  substance  of  the  play  lies  not  in  the  plot  from  which 
it  takes  its  name,  but  in  the  relation  between  these  two 
characters,  freely  invented  by  Shakespeare. 

Brandes  :  William  Shakespeare. 

VI. 
Hero. 

It  is  not  every  lady — I  speak  under  correction,  who,  al- 
though disposed  to  be  as  placable  as  Hero  under  grievous 
insult  and  injury,  would  be  satisfied  with  reparation  prof- 
fered in  the  exact  form,  that  appears  to  indicate  a  prompt- 
itude to  be  consoled,  that  goes  far  to  cancel  the  merit  of 
penitence.  The  veil  of  Hero  would  have  been  thrown 
down,  by  some,  not  to  welcome  the  contrite  lover  with  an 

13 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

agreeable  surprise,  but  to  confound  him  by  the  sight  of 
the  lost  bride,  who  might  claim  a  right,  under  the  circum- 
stances, to  have  at  least  detained  his  affections ;  and  there 
must,  in  fact,  be  great  peculiarity  in  the  love  and  engage- 
ment of  the  pair,  for  us  to  be  able  to  witness  the  scene, 
without  expecting  reproaches  on  one  side,  and  shame  and 
confusion  on  the  other.  The  instance  of  the  indignation 
of  Hermione,  and  the  penance  she  exacts,  for  a  similar 
outrage,  is  an  extreme  contrast,  but  exhibits  the  principle 
of  feeling  involved. 

Hero  has  to  be  depicted,  and  is  depicted,  of  such  temper 
and  disposition  as  will  accept  this  not  very  complimentary 
form  of  reparation,  and  yet  of  such  susceptibilities  as  to 
feel  her  false  accusation  acutely,  and  to  interest  our  es- 
teem and  sympathy. 

The  lady  herself  is  the  sweet  docile  creature,  with  well- 
proportioned  beauty,  intelligence,  and  disposition  for  af- 
fectionateness,that  so  frequently  accepts  her  fate  from  the 
arrangements  of  other  people,  and,  with  moderate  good 
fortune,  may  enjoy  and  confer  a  temperate  happiness  in 
any  one  of  many  possible  engagements.  Benedick's 
definition  of  her  excellence  is  all-sufficient.  She  claims 
no  commendation  in  excess ;  yet  were  she  other  than  she 
is  she  were  unhandsome,  and  being  no  other  but  as  she  is, 
Benedick  and  such  as  he  may  not  like  her,  but  without 
art,  or  invitation,  or  coquetry,  she  will  be  one  of  the  last 
to  go  through  her  teens  without  a  husband,  notwithstand- 
ing. 

It  is  wonderful  how  Shakespeare  has  been  able  to  in- 
terest us  *by  the  mere  attractiveness  of  simple,  affectionate, 
and  cheerful  disposition  in  a  female  character,  with 
scarcely  a  touch  of  passion,  and  for  independent  will  so 
nearly  a  nonentity.  When  Leonato  thinks  Don  Pedro  is 
the  suitor  for  his  daughter,  he  proposes  to  "  acquaint  my 
daughter  withal,  that  she  may  be  the  better  prepared  for 
an  answer,  if  peradventure  this  be  true."  The  theory  of 
the  communication  appears  in  a  subsequent  speech: — 
"  Daughter,  remember  what  I  told  you ;  if  the  prince  do 

14 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

solicit  you  in  that  kind,  you  know  your  answer  "  ;  and 
Hero  by  her  silence,  or  probably  by  the  courtesy  that  gives 
Beatrice  her  cue,  acquiesces.  Beatrice  has  a  theory  of 
filial  obedience  in  these  matters,  that  her  cousin  does  not, 
or  has  no  occasion  at  least,  to  dream  of.  "  Yes,  faith,  it 
is  my  cousin's  duty  to  make  courtesy,  and  say,  '  As  it 
please  you,'  but  yet,  for  all  that,  cousin,  let  him  be  a 
handsome  fellow,  or  else  make  another  courtesy,  and  say, 
*  Father,  as  it  please  me.'  "  Clearly,  if  Beatrice  is  to  be 
fitted  with  a  husband  by  any  will  or  choice  other  than  her 
own,  it  must  be  managed  by  a  different  and  far  more 
artificial  process.  The  limits  of  the  independence  that 
Hero  was  prepared  to  assert,  are  marked  by  a  few  dex- 
trous touches,  in  her  not  ungraceful  repartees  with  the 
masked  Don  Pedro;  prepared  to  be  wooed,  we  suspect 
she  is  also  prepared  to  consent,  yet  to  indulge  withal  in 
those  slighter  ceremonious  holdings  off  that  are  the  fem- 
inine prerogative  in  the  most  absolute  surrender — their 
honours  of  war. 

Lloyd  :  Critical  Essays  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 

VII. 

Claudio. 

To  Claudio  we  cannot  reconcile  ourselves.  He  allows 
himself  to  be  convinced,  by  the  clumsiest  stratagem,  that 
his  young  bride,  in  reality  as  pure  and  tender  as  a  flower, 
is  a  faithless  creature,  who  deceives  him  the  very  day 
before  her  marriage.  Instead  of  withdrawing  in  silence, 
he  prefers,  like  the  blockhead  he  is,  to  confront  her  in  the 
church,  before  the  altar,  and  in  the  hearing  of  every  one 
overwhelm  her  with  coarse  speeches  and  low  accusations ; 
and  he  induces  his  patron,  the  Prince  Don  Pedro,  and 
even  the  lady's  own  father,  Leonato,  to  join  him  in  heap- 
ing upon  the  unhappy  bride  their  idiotic  accusations. 
When,  by  the  advice  of  the  priest,  her  relatives  have 
given  her  out  as  dead   and  the  worthy  old  Leonato  has 

IS 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

lied  up  hill  and  down  dale  about  her  hapless  end,  Claudio, 
who  now  learns  too  late  that  he  has  been  duped,  is  at 
once  taken  into  favour  again.  Leonato  only  demands  of 
him — in  accordance  with  the  medieval  fable — that  he 
shall  declare  himself  willing  to  marry  whatever  woman 
he  (Leonato)  shall  assign  to  him.  This  he  promises, 
without  a  word  or  thought  about  Hero ;  whereupon  she  is 
placed  in  his  arms.  The  original  spectators,  no  doubt, 
found  this  solution  satisfactory;  a  modern  audience  is 
exasperated  by  it,  very  much  as  Nora,  in  A  Doll's  House, 
is  exasperated  on  finding  that  Helmer,  after  the  danger 
has  passed  away,  regards  all  that  has  happened  in  their 
souls  as  though  it  had  never  been,  merely  because  the 
sky  is  clear  again.  If  ever  man  was  unworthy  a  woman's 
love,  that  man  is  Claudio.  If  ever  marriage  was  odious 
and  ill-omened,  this  is  it.  The  old  taleteller's  invention 
has  been  too  much  even  for  Shakespeare's  art. 

Brandes  :   William  Shakespeare, 

VIIL 
Dogberry. 

At  first  it  seems  as  if  Shakspeare  intended  by  the  intro- 
duction of  Dogberry  and  his  ineffective  watch  merely  to 
interpolate  a  bit  of  comic  business,  by  parodying  the  im- 
portant phrases  and  impotent  exploits  of  the  suburban 
constable.  But  Dogberry's  mission  extended  farther  than 
that,  and  is  intimately  woven  with  delightful  .unconscious- 
ness on  his  part  into  the  fortunes  of  Hero. 

Dogberry  is  not  only  immortal  for  that,  but  his  name 
will  never  die  so  long  as  village  communities  in  either 
hemisphere  elect  their  guardians  of  the  peace  and  clothe 
them  in  verbose  terrors.  If  tlie  town  is  tmfortunately 
short  of  rascals,  the  officer  will  fear  one  in  each  bush,  or 
extemporize  one  out  of  some  unbelligerent  starveling  to 
show  that  the  majestic  instructions  of  his  townsmen  have 
not  been  wasted  on  him.  This  elaborate  inefficiency  is 
frequently  selected  by  busy  communities,  because  so  few 

i6 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

persons  are  there  clumsy  enough  to  be  unemployed.  Such 
a  vagrom  is  easily  comprehended.  Dogberry  has  caught 
up  the  turns  and  idioms  of  sagacious  speech,  and  seems 
to  be  blowing  them  up  as  life-belts;  so  he  goes  bobbing 
helplessly  around  in  the  froth  of  his  talk.  '  I  leave  an 
arrant  knave  with  your  worship;  which,  I  beseech  your 
worship,  to  correct  yourself  for  the  example  of  others.  I 
humbly  give  you  leave  to  depart;  and  if  a  merry  meeting 
may  be  wished,  God  prohibit  it."  He  ties  his  conversa- 
tion in  hopeless  knots  of  absurdity;  when  pomp  takes 
possession  of  a  vacuous  mind,  it  rattles  like  the  jester's 
bladder  of  dried  pease.  Have  not  his  fellow-citizens  in- 
vested him?  He  will  then  lavish  the  selectest  phrases.  I 
heard  a  village  politician  once  say  with  scorn  in  town 
meeting,  ''  Mr.  Moderator,  I  know  nothing  about  your 
technalities."  Dogberry  is  the  most  original  of  Mala- 
props,  says  to  the  Prince's  order  that  it  shall  be 
suffigance,  and  tells  the  watch  that  salvation  were  a  pun- 
ishment too  good  for  them,  if  they  should  have  any 
allegiance  in  them.  He  has  furnished  mankind  with  that 
adroit  phrase  of  conversational  escape  from  compromise, 
''  Comparisons  are  odorous."  Where  common  men 
would  suspect  a  person,  Dogberry  says  the  person  is 
auspicious.  His  brain  seems  to  be  web-footed,  and 
tumbles  over  itself  in  trying  to  reach  swimming  water; 
as  when  he  says,  ''  Masters,  it  is  proved  already  that  you 
are  little  better  than  false  knaves,  and  it  will  go  near  to 
be  thought  so  shortly."  This  is  the  precipitancy  of  a 
child's  reasoning. 

His  own  set  do  not  discover  by  his  malapropisms  how 
futile  he  is,  for  their  ears  are  accustomed  to  this  mis- 
placing of  terms ;  which,  indeed,  is  not  uncommon  among 
people  of  stronger  native  sense.  Even  the  spelling-book 
and  primer  are  not  prophylactic  against  this  failing,  which 
seems  to  be  owing  to  cerebral  inability  to  keep  words  from 
gadding  about  vv^ith  each  other  after  they  have  once  en- 
tered the  mind :  a  laxness  between  notions  and  memory 
which  results  in  verbal  hybridity,  as  when  a  man,  who  was 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

well  informed  enough,  used  to  say,  when  the  castors  were 
passed,  that  he  never  took  condignments  with  his  food; 
and  the  Western  lawyer  said  of  a  man  that  he  could  not 
tell  a  story  without  embezzlements. 

Dogberry  has  a  pondering  look  and  a  fribbling  em- 
phasis. He  rolls  the  plump  phrases  over  and  over  like  a 
quid,  but  ejects  them  with  a  kind  of  strenuous  drivel. 
He  makes  pauses,  as  if  discriminating  the  juiciest  reflec- 
tion, but  really  settles  at  random,  like  a  pigeon  whose 
brain  has  been  vivisected ;  so  he  concludes  that,  if  a  man 
will  not  stand  when  he  is  bid  to,  he  may  go;  and  that, 
though  a  thief  ought  to  be  arrested,  they  that  touch  pitch 
will  be  defiled ;  and  that,  on  the  whole,  it  is  better  to  let 
him  show  himself  what  he  is,  and  steal  out  of  your  com- 
pany. 

Thus  he  attains  to  the  merit  of  genius  when  it  chips  the 
egg  and  lets  loose  the  struggling  chick  of  the  ordinary 
mind.  He  voices  the  perplexity  of  the  watch,  and  lends 
to  it  the  color  of  concession  and  sagacious  compromise. 
It  is  exactly  what  old  Verges  thought  but  did  not  know 
how  to  incubate  into  definite  expression.  So  all  the  peo- 
ple who  sit  upon  political  fences,  and  find  the  edge  grow- 
ing inconvenient,  welcome  the  pad  which  postpones  the 
necessity  for  a  jump  to  either  side. 

Dogberry  admires  and  cossets  his  own  authority,  but 
is  too  timid  to  enforce  it  save  with  poor  old  Verges, 
whose  mental  feebleness  is  an  exact  shadow  of  Dog- 
berry's ;  and  the  latter  manages  to  step  upon  himself  in 
amusing  unconsciousness.  ''  An  old  man,  sir,  and  his  wits 
are  not  so  blunt,  as,  God  help,  I  would  desire  they  were." 
A  good  old  man,  sir ;  but  he  will  gabble.  All  men  are  not 
alike,  alas !  So  he  goes  on,  dismissing  himself,  and  slam- 
ming to  the  door  without  observing  it. 

Weiss:  JVit,  Humor,  and  Shakspeare, 


Most  delightful  is  the  contradiction  between  appearance 
and  reaUty,  between  subjective  conception  and  objective 
reality,  as  we  have  it  exhibited  in  the  Clown  of  the  piece, 

i8 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

the  dutiful  constable  Dogberry,  who  considers  his  posi- 
tion so  very  important  and  maintains  it  so  zealously,  but 
who  is  always  uttering  contradictory  maxims  and  pre- 
cepts ;  who  is  so  presumptuous  and  yet  so  modest ;  who 
looks  at  things  with  so  correct  an  eye  and  yet  pronounces 
such  foolish  judgements;  talks  so  much  and  yet  says  so 
little,  in  fact,  perpetually  contradicts  himself,  giving  or- 
ders for  what  he  advises  to  be  left  undone,  entreating  to 
be  registered  an  ass,  and  yet  is  the  very  one  to  discover 
the  nothing  which  is  the  cause  of  the  much  ado.  He  is 
the  chief  representative  of  that  view  of  life  upon  which 
the  whole  is  based,  inasmuch  as  its  comic  power  is  ex- 
hibited most  strongly  and  most  directly  in  him.  For  this 
contrast,  which,  in  accordance  with  its  nature,  usually  ap- 
pears divided  between  its  two  poles,  is,  so  to  say,  individ- 
ualised in  him,  that  is,  united  in  the  one  individual  and 
fully  reflected  in  his  inconsistent  and  ever  contradictory 
doings  and  resolves,  thoughts  and  sayings.  Dogberry 
personifies,  if  we  may  say  so,  the  spirit  and  meaning  of 
the  whole,  and,  therefore,  plays  essentially  the  same  part 
as  the  Fool  in  Tzvclfth  Night,  Touchstone  in  As  You  Like 
It,  Launce  in  the  Tzvo  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  and  the  ma- 
jority of  the  clowns  in  Shakspeare's  comedies.  Besides 
this,  he  is  also  an  important  character  in  so  far  as  it  is  he 
who  discovers  the  rascally  trick  of  Don  John  and  his  ac- 
complice  which  gives  rise  to  the  whole  complication ;  in 
fact,  the  comic  caprice  of  accident  delights  in  employing 
the  most  comic  of  all  characters,  the  clowns  par  excel- 
lence, to  bring  to  light  that  which  it  was  indeed  easy 
enough  to  discover,  which,  however,  the  sense  of  the  sen- 
sible personages  did  not  perceive.  At  all  events  our  point 
of  view  gives  an  easy  and  simple  explanation  as  to  why 
Shakspeare  conferred  the  difficult  task  of  unravelling  the 
entangled  knot  upon  such  a  peculiarly  foolish  fellow  as 
Dogberry,  and  why  he  made  him  the  clown  of  the  piece 
and  conceived  his  character  in  this  and  in  no  other  light. 
Ulrici  :  Shakspeare's  Dramatic  Art. 

19 


Comments  MUCH  ADO 

IX. 

Don  John. 

In  the  person  of  Don  John,  the  poet  has  depicted  mere 
unmixed  e\»il,  and  has  disdained  to  supply  a  motive  for 
his  vile  action  in  any  single  injury  received,  or  desire  un- 
satisfied. Don  John  is  one  of  the  sour,  envious  natures 
which  suck  poison  from  all  sources,  because  they  suffer 
from  the  perpetual  sense  of  being  unvalued  and  de- 
spised. He  is,  for  the  moment,  constrained  by  the  for- 
bearance with  which  his  victorious  brother  has  treated 
him,  but  ''  if  he  had  his  mouth  he  would  bite."  And  he 
does  bite,  like  the  cur  and  coward  he  is,  and  makes  him- 
self scarce  when  his  villainy  is  about  to  be  discovered. 
He  is  an  ill-conditioned,  base,  and  tiresome  scoundrel; 
and,  although  he  conscientiously  does  evil  for  evil's  sake, 
we  miss  in  him  all  the  defiant  and  brilliantly  sinister  quali- 
ties which  appear  later  on  in  lago  and  in  Edmund.  There 
is  little  to  object  to  in  Don  John's  repulsive  scoundrelism ; 
at  most  we  may  say  that  it  is  a  strange  motive-power  for 

a  comedy.  ^  rrr-.-,-        r^.    . 

Brandes:  William  Shakespeare. 

X. 

General. 

The  interest  in  the  plot  is  always  In  fact  on  account  of 
the  characters,  not  vice  versa,  as  in  almost  all  other  wri- 
ters ;  the  plot  is  a  mere  canvas  and  no  more.  Hence  arises 
the  true  justification  of  the  same  stratagem  being  used  in 
regard  to  Benedick  and  Beatrice — the  vanity  in  each  being 
alike.  Take  away  from  the  Much  Ado  About  Nothing 
all  that  which  is  not  indispensable  to  the  plot,  either  as 
having  little  to  do  with  it,  or,  at  best,  like  Dogberry  and 
his  comrades,  forced  into  the  service,  when  any  other 
less  ingeniously  absurd  watchmen  and  night-constables 
would  have  answered  the  mere  necessities  of  the  action — 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Comments 

take  away  Benedick,  Beatrice,  Dogberry,  and  the  reaction 
of  the  former  on  the  character  of  Hero — and  what  will 
remain?  In  other  writers  the  main  agent  of  the  plot  is 
always  the  prominent  character;  in  Shakespeare  it  is  so, 
or  is  not  so,  as  the  character  is  in  itself  calculated,  or 
not  calculated,  to  form  the  plot.  Don  John  is  the  main- 
spring of  the  plot  of  this  play ;  but  he  is  merely  shown  and 
then  withdrawn. 

Coleridge. 

When  we  turn  to  the  old  stories  upon  which  Shake- 
speare based  his  plays,  we  get,  perhaps,  a  deeper  impres- 
sion of  his  essential  originality  than  we  should  were  the 
plots  wholly  his  own,  whatever  might  be  their  merits  as 
plots.  We  are  brought,  in  this  way,  to  a  deeper  sense  of 
the  workings  of  the  inner  spirit  which  subjected  all  its 
appropriations  to  its  own  creative  purpose.  We  see  that 
the  work  grew  from  what  the  workman  had  within  him- 
self, and  not  merely  from  following  what  others  had  done 
before  him.  We  see  that  the  old  story  has  been  less 
worked  into,  than  employed  as  the  scaffolding  of,  his 
dramatic  structure. 

The  Ufe  and  the  main  interest  of  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing  are  due  to  characters  which,  so  far  as  we  know, 
were  entirely  original  with  Shakespeare,  namely,  Bene- 
dick and  Beatrice,  Dogberry  and  Verges.  The  other 
characters  have  prototypes  in  the  original  story,  which  is 
found  under  various  forms,  the  earliest  being  the  tale  of 
Ariodante  and  Ginevra,  in  the  Orlando  Fiirioso  of 
Ariosto. 
Corson  :  An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Shakespeare. 


[Much  Ado  About  Nothing]  is  brilliant,  spirited, 
charged  wuth  vivacity,  and  sparkling  with  wit;  it  is  a 
masterpiece  of  keen  characterization,  of  flashing  conver- 
sation, of  striking  contrasts  of  type,  and  of  intellectual 
energy,  playing  freely  and  buoyantly  against  a  back- 
ground  of   exquisite   beauty.     The   dramatist   was   now 


Comments 

completely  emancipated  from  his  earlier  teachers,  and  had 
secured  entire  command  of  his  own  genius  and  of  the  re- 
sources of  comedy  as  a  literary  form.  In  this  splendid 
creation  of  his  happiest  mood  in  his  most  fortunate  years, 
the  prophecy  of  sustained  and  flashing  interchange  of  wit 
in  Lyly's  court  plays  is  amply  fulfilled,  and  the  promise 
of  individual  power  of  characterization  clearly  discerned 
in  Biron  and  Rosaline  is  perfectly  realized  in  Benedict 
and  Beatrice ;  while  Dogberry  and  Verges  mark  the  per- 
fection of  Shakespeare's  skill  in  drawing  blundering 
clowns.  In  this  play  the  blending  of  the  tragic  and 
humorous  or  comic  is  so  happily  accomplished  that  the 
two  contrasting  elements  flow  together  in  a  vital  and 
exquisite  harmony  of  experience,  full  of  tenderness, 
loyalty,  audacity,  and  brilliancy ;  the  most  comprehensive 
contrast  of  character  is  secured  in  Hero  and  Claudio, 
Benedict  and  Beatrice,  as  chief  actors  in  the  drama,  with 
Dogberry  and  Verges  as  centres  of  interest  in  the  minor 
or  subsidiary  plot.  Hazhtt  declares  with  reference  to  this 
play  that  perhaps  ''  the  middle  point  of  comedy  was  never 
more  nicely  hit,  in  which  the  ludicrous  blends  with  the 
tender,  and  our  follies,  turning  round  against  themselves 
in  support  of  our  affections,  retain  nothing  but  their  hu- 
manity." In  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  Shakespeare 
drew  with  a  free  hand  the  large  and  rather  coarse  quali- 
ties of  English  middle-class  life;  in  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing  he  presented  a  study  of  life  in  the  highest  stage 
of  the  social  order,  touched  at  all  points  with  distinction 
of  insight,  characterization,  and  taste.  The  gayety  and 
brilliancy  of  the  great  world  as  contrasted  with  the  little 
world  of  rural  and  provincial  society  are  expressed  with  a 
confidence  and  consistency  which  indicate  that  the  poet 
must  have  known  something  of  the  court  circle  and  of 
the  accomplished  women  who  moved  in  it. 
Mabie:  William  Shakespeare:  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man. 


22 


Much  Ado  About  Nothing, 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE. 

Don  Pedro,  prince  of  Arragon. 

Don  John,  his  bastard  brother. 

Claudio,  a  young  lord  of  Florence. 

^__Bejjedick,  a  young  lord  of  Padua. 

Leonato,  governor  of  Messina. 

Antonio,  liis  brother. 

Balthasar,  attendant  on  Don  Pedro. 

Conrade,    "1 

„  Y    followers  of  Don  John. 

Borachio,  J 

Friar  Francis. 

'  o<>^''  f*  Dogberry,  a  constable. 

Vo!>^    ^,  ^>^<y' VVerges,  a  headborough. 

c  y5»\^^*  ..-^^  A  Sexton. 


^' 


A  Boy. 

Hero,  daughter  to  Leonato. 

v-Beatrice,  niece  to  Leonato. 

Margaret,  . 

gentlewomen  attending  on  Hero. 


} 


Ursula, 

Messengers,  Watch,  Attendants,  etc. 
Scene,  Messina. 


24 


-t-fvCUtd. 


Much  Ado  About  Nothingc 


ACT  FIRST.  — — ^ 

Scene  I .     ,  ^^o^'i^  tfeuU  ^^camjl 
Before  Leonato  s  house.         ^.        ^juLdkJULUU 
Enter  Leonato,  Hero,  and  Beatrice,  zvitJi  a  Messenger. 

Leon.  I  learn  in  this  letter  that  Don  Pedro  of  Arra-    Q  ^w  (-^ 
gon  comes  this  night  to  Messina.  .    -o^^^ix^ 

Mess.  He  is  very  near  by  this :    he  was  not  three 

leagues  off  when  I  left  him.  ^\x 

Leon.  How  many  gentlemen  have  you  lost  in  this 
action  ? 

Mess.  But  few  of  any  sort,  and  none  of  name. 

Leon.  A  victory  is  twice  itself  when  the  achiever 
brings   home    full   numbers.     I    find   here   that 
Don  Pedro  hath  bestowed  much  honour  on  a     lo 
young  Florentine  called  Claudio. 

Mess.  Much  deserved  on  his  part,  and  equally  re- 
membered by  Don  Pedro:  he  hath  borne  him- 
self beyond  the  promise  of  his  age ;  doing,  in 
the  figure  of  a  lamb,  the  feats  of  a  lion :  he  hath 
indeed  better  bettered  expectation  than  you  must 
expect  of  me  to  tell  you  how. 

Leon.  He  hath  an  uncle  here  in  Messina  will  be  very 
much  glad  of  it. 

Mess.  I  have  already  delivered  him  letters,  and  there     20 
appears  much  joy  in  him ;    even  so  much,  that 

25 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

joy  could  not  show  itself  modest  enough  without 

a  badge  of  bitterness.  ^ 

Leon.  Did  he  break  out  into  tears  ? 

Mess.  In  great  measure. 

Leon.  A  kind  overflow  of  kindness :  there  are  no 
faces  truer  than  those  that  are  so  washed.  How 
much  better  is  it  to  weep  at  joy  than  to  joy  at 
weeping !  ia.n<A^  cU  ^f^-*^  cx.cX<  -    <^*-**- 

Beat.  I    pray  you,    is    Signior  ^lountamp    returned  ^^p^^dxJ 

from  the  wars  or  no?  iUc4)(SL>o  l&xL^^ 

Mess.     I  know  none  of  that  name,  lady :    there  was 

none  such  in  the  army  of  any  sort.  ^ 

Leon.  What  is  he  that  you  ask  for,  niece  ? 
Hero.  My  cousin  means  Signior  Benedick  of  Padua. 
Mess.  O,  he  's  returned ;   and  as  pleasant  as  ever  he 

Beat.  He  set  up  his  bjlb  here  in^  Messina  ana  chal-  /^^^^j^ 
lenged  Cupid  ^  the  flighj: ;   and  my  uncle's  fool, 
reading  the  challenge,  subscribed  for  Cupid,  and 
challenged  him  at  the  bird-bxiit.     I   pray  you,     40 
how  many  hath  he  killed  and   eaten  in  these 
wars  ?     But  how  many  hath  he  killed  ?    for,  in- 

4^u^       deed,  I  promised  to  eat  all  of  his  killing. 
^f^    Leon.  Faith,   niece,   you  tax   bigmor   Benedick  too 

^4j^  ^  much ;    but  he  '11  be  meet  with  you,  I  doubt  it 

^/  not.  ti^iJax,? 

^     ()     Mess.  He   hath   done   good   service,   lady,   in   these 

'  \^      0      wars. 

-^^^^^^^^Beat.  You  had  musty  victual,  and  he  hath  holp  to 

^  eat  it :    he  is  a  very  valiant  trencher-man ;    he 

iU^^^  hath  an  excellent  stomach.  5^ 

^fftA^      Mess.  And  a  good  soldier  too,  lady. 

;  0L^     Beat.  And  a  good  soldier  to  a  lady ;  but  what  is  he 
to  a  lord  ? 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Mess.  A  lord  to  a  lord,  a  man  to  a  man;  stuffed 
with  all  honourable  virtues. 

Beat.  It  is  so,  indeed ;  .  he  is  no  less  than  a  stuffed 
man :  but  for  the  stuffing, — well,  we  are  all 
mortal. 

Leon.  You  must  not,  sir,  mistake  my  niece.     There 

is  a  kind  of  merry  war  betwixt  Signior  Bene-     60 
dick  and  her :    they  never  meet  but  there  's  a 
skirmish  of  wit  between  them. 

Beat.  Alas!    he  gets  nothing  by  that.     In  our  last     /       1 
conflict  four  of  his  five  wits  went  halting  off,  ^P*  r^ 
and  now  is  the  whole  man  governed  with  one  :  so   ^iQfuJLM, 
that  if  he  have  wit  enough  to  keep  himself  warm,    »)cauMA*4.^fu 
let  him  bear  it  for  a  difference  between  himself      ^*^ 
and  his  horse;    for  it  is  all  the  wealth  that  he    vU*^<».^ti*ai 
hath  left,   to  be  known  a  reasonable  creature.   '^ Jkuircu*-^ 
Who  is  his  companion  now?     He  hath  every    ^t/4/,'luiu 
month  a  new  sworn  brother.  ^j  UuLOuU 

Mess.  Is  't  possible  ?  ^^ 

Beat.  Very  easily  possible :  he  wears  his  faith  but  as 
the  fashion  of  his  hat ;  it  ever  changes  with  the 
next  hXozVt*^^^^^  jjs^  MuLfiUjLfj  ^k©  • 

Mess.  I    see,    lady,    the   gentleman   is   not    in    Y^u^^^^ 
books.  ^  ^ 

Beat.  No;    an   he  were,   I   would  burn   my   study. 
But,   I   pray  you,   who  is   his   companion?     Is 
there  no  young  ^f^rpr^n^w  that  will  make  a     80 
voyage  v^ith  him  to  the  devil  ? 

Mess.  He  is  most  in  the  company  of  the  right  noble 
Claudio. 

Beat.  O  Lord,  he  will  hang  upon  him  like  a  disease : 
he  is  sooner  caught  than  the  pestilence,  and  the 


\ 


27 


R^ 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

taker  runs  presently  mad.  God  help  the  noble 
Claudio !  if  he  have  caught  the  Benedick,  it  will 
cost  him  a  thousand  pound  ere  a'  be  cured. 

Mess.  I  will  hold  friends  with  you,  lady. 

Beat.  Do,  good  friend.  90 

Leon.  You  will  never  run  mad,  nigce. 

Beat.  No,  not  till  a  hot  January. 

Mess.  Don  Pedro  is  approached. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Don  John,  Claudio,  Benedick,  and 
Balthasar. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  Signior  Leonato,  you  are  come  to 
meet  your  trouble :  the  fashion  of  the  world  is 
to  avoid  cost,  and  you  encounter  it. 

Leon.  Never  came  trouble  to  my  house  in  the  like- 
ness of  your  Grace:  for  trouble  being  gone, 
comfort  should  remain;  but  when  you  depart 
from  me,  sorrow  abides,  and  happiness  takes  his 
leave.  J      X)  ^^^ 

D.  Pedro.  You  embrace  your  cnargetoo  willingly. 
I  think  this  is  your  daughter. 

Leon.  Her  mother  hath  many  times  told  me  so. 

Bene.  Were  you  in  doubt,  sir,  that  you  asked  her? 

Leon.  Signior  Benedick,  no;    for  then  were  you  a 

D.  Pedro.  You    ha^teit    full,    Benedick :     we    may 
guess    by  ^i|^^5^yoj^e^  being    a    man. 
i  ruly,  the  Jady  Tamers  nyerseirr    Be  happy,  lady ;  no 
for  you  are  like  an  honourable  father. 

Bene.  If  Signior  Leonato  be  her  father,  she  would 
not  have  his  head  on  her  shoulders  for  all  Mes- 
sina, as  like  him  as  she  is. 

28 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Beat.  I  wonder  that  you  will  still  be  talking,  Signior 

Benedick:   nobody  marks  you. 
Bene,  What,  my  dear  Lady  Disdain !    are  you  yet 

living  ? 
Beat.  Is  it  possible  disdain  should  die  while  she  hath 

such  meet  food  to  feed  it,  as  Signior  Benedick?  120 

Courtesy  itself  must  convert  to  disdain,  if  you 

come  in  her  presence. 
Bene.  Then  is  courtesy  a  turncoat.     But  it  is  certain 

I  am  loved  of  all  ladies,  only  you  excepted :  and 

I  would  I  could  find  in  my  heart  that  I  had  not 

a  hard  heart ;   for,  truly,  I  loveAione. - 

Beat.  A '^eSrhappitiess  to  worn  en  -.uihey  would  else 
have  been  troubled  with  a  pernicious  suitor.     I 
thank  God  and  my  cold  blood,  I  am  of  your 
humour  for  that :  I  had  rather  hear  my  dog  bark  130 
at  a  crow  than  a  man  swear  he  loves  me. 

Bene.  God  keep  your  ladyship  still  in  that  mind !  so 
some  gentleman  or  other  shall  'scape  a  pre- 
destinate scratched  face. 

Beat.  Scratching  could  not  make  it  worse,  an  'twere 
such  a  face  as  yours  were. 

Bene.  Well,  you  are  a  rare  parrot-teacher. 

Beat.  A  bird  of  my  tongue  is  better  than  a  beast  of 
yours. 

Bene.  I   would   my   horse   had   the   speed   of   your  140 

tongue,  and  so  good  a  continuer.    But  keep  your 

way,  i'  God's  name ;   I  have  done. 
Beat.  You  always  end  with  a  jade's  trick:    I  know 

you  of  old. 
D.  Pedro,  That  is  the  sum  of  all,  Leonato.     Signior 

Claudio  and  Signior  Benedick,  my  dear  friend 

29 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Leonato  hath   invited  you   all.     I  tell  him  we 
shall  stay  here  at  the  least  a  month ;    and  he 
heartily    prays    some    occasion    may    detain    us 
longer.     I  dare  swear  he  is  no  hypocrite,  but  150 
prays  from  his  heart. 

Leon.  If  you  swear,  my  lord,  you  shall  not  be  for- 
sworn. [To  Don  John]  Let  me  bid  you  wel- 
come, my  lord :  being  reconciled  to  the  p'r'mce 
your  brother,  I  owe  you  all  duty. 

D.  John.  I  thank  you :  I  am  not  of  many  words, 
but  I  thank  you. 

Leon.  Please  it  your  Grace  lead  on  ? 

D.  Pedro.  Your  hand,  Leonato ;  we  will  go  to- 
gether. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Benedick  and  Claudio.  160 

Claud.  Benedick,   didst  thou  note  the  daughter  of 

Signior  Leonato  ? 
Bene.  I  noted  her  not;  but  I  looked  on  her. 
Claud.  Is  she  not  a  modest  young  lady? 
Bene.  Do  you  question  me,  as  an  honest  man  should 
C  ^;o^4.tl       do,  for  my  simple  true  judgement?    or  would 
^.*€lt3  ^     you  have  me  speak  after  my  custom,  as  being  a 
*^  >       ^        professed  tyrant  to  their  sex? 
^         Claud.  No;    I  pray  thee  speak  in  sober  judgement.     170 
Bejte.  Why,  i'  faith,  methinks  she  's  too  low  for  a 
'       ■  ^  high  praise,  too  brown  for  a  fair  praise,  and  too 
cy»^f^^^,     little  for  a  great  praise:    only  this  commenda- 
tion I  can  afford  her,  that  were  she  other  than 
she  is,   she  were  unhandsome;    and  being  no 
i*^-  other  but  as  she  is,  I  do  not  like  her. 

Claud.  Thou  thinkest  I  am  in  sport :  I  pray  thee  tell 
me  truly  how  thou  likest  her. 

30 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Bene.  Would  you  buy  her,  that  you  inquire  after 

her?  I 80 

Claud.  Can  the  world  buy  such  a  jewel?  (l) OZjl^   ^^ 

Bene.  Yea,  and  a  case  to  put  it  into.     But  speak^^  ijtAjuif^CCL 
you  thi*  with  a  sad  bro^- ?    or  do  you  play  the/r   U       ",^    n 
g^'fgarMf^Cupid  is  a  ^oo<^are-^^^^'/^*^ 
findfrj  nnd  Vulcan  a  rare  carpenter  ?     Come,  in  ^^^^*^  "^*^ 
what  key  shall  a  man  take  you,  to  go  in  the  song  ?  ^^^_^  ^  yuL« 

Claud.  In  mine  eye   she  is  the  sweetest  lady  that  U 

ever  I  looked  on. 

Bene.  I  can  see  yet  without  spectacles,  and  I  see  no 

such  matter :    there  's  her  cousin,  an  she  were  190 
not  possessed  with  a  fury,  exceeds  her  as  much  jp 

in  beauty  as  the  _first  of  May  doth  the  last  of    ''^^^~ 
December.     But  I  hope  you  have  no  intent  to  r-' 

turn  husband,  have  you? 

Claud.  I  would  scarce  trust  myself,  though   I  had 
sworn  the  contrary,  if  Hero  would  be  my  wife. 

Bene.  Is 't   come   to   this  ?     In   faith,   hath   not   the      ,     ^    i^ 
world  one  man  but  he  will  wear  his,  cap  \vith       -    '" 
^suspicion?     Shall    I    never    see    a    bachelor    of 
threescore  again  ?     Go  to,  i'  faith  ;   an  thou  wilt  200 
needs  thrust   thy  neck   into   a  yoke,   wear   the 
print   of   it,   and  ^gh   away    Sundays.     ^^^^  > CB^jea^-utfOu' 
Don  Pedro  is  returned  to  seek  you.        j2JtSiJu^tXjLiAf6^^ 

^    Re-enter  Don  Pedro.  r<^'iYZ^fLtJ^ 

D.  Pedro.  What  secret  hath*1^1d  jtw  hefe,  that  you^^/r*-*  *^  '•** 
followed  not  to  Leonato's  ?  /L^"^^/^^ 

Bene.  I  would  your  Grace  would  constrain  me  to  .^^^t^^J 
tell.  j:^^i^  * 

D.  Pedro.  I  charge  thee  on  thy  allegiance.  "     ^^ 

31 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Bene.  You  hear,  Count  Claudlo;    I  can  be  secret  as 

a  dumb  man  ;    I  would  have  you  think  so ;    but,  210 
on  my  allegiance,  mark  you  this,  on  my     alle- 
giance.   He  IS  in  love.    With  who  ?  now  that  is 
your  Grace's  part.     Mark  how  short  his  answer 
is ; — With  Hero,  Leonato's  short  daughter. 

Claud.  If  this  were  so,  so  were  it  uttered. 

Bene.  Like  the  old  tale,  my  lord :  '  it  is  not  so,  nor 
'twas  not  so,  but,  indeed,  God  forbid  it  should 
be  so.' 

Claud.  If  my  passion  change  not  shortly,  God  forbid 

it  should  be  otherwise.  220 

D.Pedro.  Amen,  if  you  love  her;    for  the  lady  is 

very  well  worthy.     ^£^^^^ ,iuA<k>  &-  eeZtA,.,,^ 

Claud.  You  speak  this  to  fetchmein,  my  lord,      [j^ 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  I  speak  my  thought. 

Claud.  And,  in  faith,  my  lord,  I  spoke  mine. 

Bene.  And,  by  my  two  faiths  and  troths,  my  lord, 
I  spoke  mine. 

Claud.  That  I  love  her,  I  feel. 

D.  Pedro.  That  she  is  worthy,  I  know. 

Bene.  That  I  neither  feel  how  she  should  be  loved,  230 
nor  know   how   she   should   be  worthy,   is   the 
opinion  that  fire  cannot  melt  out  of  me:    I  will 
die  in  it  at  the  stake. 

D.  Pedro.  Thou  wast  ever  an  obstinate  heretic  in  the 
despite  of  beauty. 

Claud.  And  never  could  maintain  his  part  but  in  the 
force  of  his  will. 

Bene.  That  a  woman  conceived  me,  I  thank  her ;  that 
she  brought  me  up,   I  likewise  give  her  most 
humble  thanks :    but  that  I  will  have  a  recheat  240 
32  -/ui>ou^ 


^tficiuNi 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

winded  in  my  fpr^^d,  or  hang  my  bugle  in 
an  invisible  bSlanCTc.  all' women '  shall  pardon 
me.  Because  I  will  not  do  them  the  wrong  to 
mistrust  any,  I  will  ck*  myself  the  right  to  trust 
none ;  and  the  ^nenff^f^  me  which  I  may  go 
the  finer,  I  will  live  a  bachelor. 

D.  Pedro.  I  shall  see  thee,  ere  I  die,  look  pale  with 
love. 

Bene.  With  anger,   with  sickness,  or  with  hunger, 

my  lord ;   not  with  love :    prove  that  ever  I  lose  250 
more  blood  with  love  than  I  will  get  again  with 
drinking,    pick    out   mine   eyes    with   a   ballad- 
maker's  pen,  and  hang  me  up  at  the  door  of  a        \  1^  V<[j<sy 
brothel-house  for  the  sign  of  blind  Cupid. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  if  ever  thou  doj^  faU  fromihis  faith,  \ 

thou  wilt  prove  a  notable  ar^^^m^^^  *^Pi-f^      i\JXi  %A^ 

Bene.  If  I  do,  hang  me  in  a  bottle  like  a  cat,  and         Uccjxx 
shoot  at  me ;    and  he  that  hits  me,  let  him  be  ^  ^  .' 

clapped  on  the  shoulder  and  called  Adam. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  as  time  shall  try :  260  A 

'  In  time  the  savage  bull  doth  bear  the  ^oke.'        /  r  r%         '^ 

Bene.  The  savage  bull  may;  but  if  ever  the  sensible  ^  ^  C\ 
Benedick  bear  it,  pluck  off  the  bull's  horns,  and 
set  them  in  my  forehead:  and  let  me  be  vilely 
painted ;  and  in  such  great  letters  as  they  write 
'  Here  is  good  horse  to  hire,'  let  them  signify 
under  my  sign  '  Here  you  may  see  Benedick  the 
married  man.' 

Claud.  If  this  should  ever  happen,  thou  wouldst  be 

horn-mad.  270 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  if  Cupid  have  not  spent  all  his  quiver 
in  Venice,  thou  wilt  quake  for  this  shortly. 

33 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  •         MUCH  ADO 

Bene,  I  look  for  an  earthquake  too,  then. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  you  will  temporize  with  the  hours. 
In  the  meantime,  good  Signior  Benedick,  repair 
to  Leonato's :  commend  me  to  him,  and  tell  him 
I  will  not  fail  him  at  supper ;  for  indeed  he  hath 
made  great  preparation. 

Bene.  I  have  almost  matter  enough  in  me  for  such 

an  embassage  ;   and  soj^pmmit  you —  280 

Claud.  To  the  Sftf^o?  Uoaf^rom  my  house,  if  I 
had  it, — 

D.  Pedro.  The  sixth  of  July :  Your  loving  friend, 
Benedick. 

Bene.  Nay,  mock  not,  mock  not.  The  bo^^pf  your 
discourse  is  sometime  ^rm^Jmvmn  fragments, 
and  the  guards  are  but  sHghtly  basted  on 
neither :  ere  you  flout  old  ends  any  further,  ex- 
amine your  conscience  :  and  so  I  leave  you.        [Exit. 

Claud.  My   liege,   your   highness   now   may   do   me 

good.  Jl^lrciu^JjLi^  ^90 

D.  Pedro.  My  love  is  thine  to  teach^  teach  it  but 
how. 
And  thou  shalt  see  how  apt  it  is  to  learn 
Any  hard  lesson  that  may  do  thee  good. 

Claud.  Hath  Leonato  any  son,  my  lord? 

D.  Pedro.  No  child  but  Hero ;   she  's  his  only  heir. 
Dost  thou  affect  her,  Claudio  ? 

Claud.  O,  my  lord, 

When  you  went  onward  on  this  ended  action, 

I  look'd  upon  her  with  a  soldier's  eye. 

That  liked,  but  had  a  rougher  task  in  hand 

Than  to  drive  liking  to  the  name  of  love :  300 

But  now  I  am  return'd  and  that  war-thoughts 

Have  left  their  places  vacant,  in  their  rooms 

Come  thronging  soft  and  delicate  desires, 

34 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

All  prompting  me  how  fair  young  Hero  is, 
Saying,  I  liked  her  ere  I  went  to  wars. 
D.  Pedro.  Thou  wilt  be  like  a  lover  presently. 
And  tire  the  hearer  with  a  book  of  words. 

And  I  will  br^ai:  ^^^QilTeran  d  vmnher  lather, 
And  thou  shalt  have  her.     Was  't  not  to  this  end 
That  thou  began'st  to  twist  so  fine  a  story?  311 

Claud.  How  sweetly  you  do  minister  to  love, 
That  know  love's  grief  by  his  complexion ! 
But  lest  my  likin^- mi^t  tpo  sudden  seem, 
I  would  have/^fvm  ifwitn  a  longer  treatise. 

D.  Pedro,  What  need  the  bridge  much  broader  than  the 

ihe  fairest  grant  is  fne  necessity.  C&^t-  d^ce  Cje^*.'^  f^ 

Look,  what  will  serve  is  ht :    tis  once,  thou  lovest,     ^^^SecQi 

And  I  will  fit  thee  with  the  remedy.  y 

I  know  we  shall  have  revelling  to-night :  320 

I  will  assume  thy  part  in  some  disguise, 

And  tell  fair  Hero  I  am  Claudio ; 

And  in  her  bosom  I  '11  unclasp  my  heart. 

And  take  her  hearing  prisoner  with  the  force 

And  strong  encounter  of  my  amorous  tale : 

Then  after  to  her  father  will  I  break ; 

And  the  conclusion  is,  she  shall  be  thine. 

In  practice  let  us  put  it  presently.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

A  room  in  Leonato's  house. 
Enter  Leonato  and  Antonio,  meeting. 

Leon.  How   now,   brother!     Where   is    my   cousin, 
your  son  ?  hath  he  provided  this  music  ? 

35 


1-- 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Ant.  He  is  very  busy  about  it.     But,  brother,  I  can 
tell  you  strange  news,  that  you  yet  dreamt  not  of. 
Leon.  Are  they  good  ? 

Ant.  As  the  event  stamps  them :    but  they  have  a 

JP         good    cover;     they    show    well    outward.     The 

JlO      p.rince  and  Count  Claudio,  walking  in  a  thick- 

{^•^rfl^n^if^  in  mine  orchard,  were  thus  much 

overheard  by  a  man  of  mine :    the  prince  dis-     lo 

covered  to  Claudio  that  he  loved  my  niece  your 

daughter,    and    meant   to   acknowledge    it   this 

^^*^*^  night  in  a  dance ;  and  if  he  found  her  accordar^ 

sn  *5s^Ai.^     he  meant  to  take  the  present  time  by  the 

^^i9kA»€M^  and  instantly  break  with  you  of  it. 

-^        Leon.  Hath  the  fellow  any  wit  that  told  you  this? 

Ant.  A  good  sharp  fellow  :   I  will  send  for  him  ;  and 

question  him  yourself. 
Leon.  No,  no ;  we  will  hold  it  as  a  dream  till  it  ap- 
pear itself:  but  I  will  acquaint  my  daughter  20 
withal,  that  she  may  be  the  better  prepared  for 
an  answer,  if  peradventure  this  be  true.  Go  you 
and  tell  her  of  it.  [Enter  attendants.]  Cousins, 
you  know  what  you  have  to  do.  O,  I  cry  you 
mercy,  friend;  go  you  with  me,  and  I  will  use 
your  skill.  Good  cousin,  have  a  care  this  busy 
time.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

The  same. 
VO  Enter  Don  John  and  Conrade. 

I    -/^ 

i^^^jJ^  Con.  What  the  good-year,  my  lord !    isyhy-  .aj^e  you, 
thus  out  oJMtieasure  sad  ? 

36 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

D.  John.  There  is  no  measure  in  the  occasion  that 
breeds;   therefore  the  sadness  is  without  Hmit. 

Con.  You  should  hear  reason. 

D.  John.  And  when  I  have  heard  it,  what  blessing 
brings  it? 

Con.  If  not  a  present  remedy,  at  least  a  patient  suf- 
ferance. 

D.  John.  I  wonder  that  thou,  being  (as  thou  sayest     lo 

thou  art)  l@n  under  Saturn,  goest  about  to  ap- ^ (jL(L&f£c  '^'^^ 
ply  a  moral  medicine  to  a  mortifying  mischief.  uxju^Uj^- oinjL 
I  cannot  hide  what  I  am :  I  must  be  sad  when  ^^:%  U,  Mj^ 
I  have  cause,  and  smile  at  no  man's  jests;  eatS«>  Isdulx.  to 
when  I  have  stomach,  and  wait  for  no  man's  ^j^jjijj/^jj^j^^eftifi 
leisure ;    sleep  when  I  am  drowsy,  and  tend  on  --^"^ 

no  marL'shusiness ;    laugh  when  I  am  merry, 


m. 


and  cI^_TTb  man  in  his  humour. 

Con.  Yea,  but  you  must  not  make  the  full  shg^w  of 

this  till  you  may  do  it  without  c^mmn^fm  You  20 
have  of  late  stood  out  against  your  brother,  and 
he  hath  ta'en  you  newly  into  his  grace ;  where 
it  is  impossible  you  should  take  true  root  but  by 
the  fair  weather  that  you  make  yourself:  it  is 
needful  that  you  frame  the  season  for  your  own 
harvest.  ^^.<>/"jl    *f^^^^^»*^   ^^^ ^ ^ '*^*^' 

D.  John.  I  had  rather  be  a  cSoKerinahedge  than  ^IjtJLujuuudh- 
rose  m  his  grace ;  and  it  better  fits  my  blood  to  uy0^  n\'^^ 
be  disdained  of  all  than  to  fashion  a  carriage  to  -^       ^ 

rob  love  from  any:   in  this,  though  I  cannot  be     30 
said  to  be  a  flattering  honest  man,  it  must  not  be 
denied  but  I  am  a  plain-dealin^villain.     i.^^'^^     "  -zQ 
A    A»Aj^^^^^^^^^^^^^  ^  muzzle,  ^nd  ^franchlsey^\^^ry^ 
clog;    ffiereTore  I  have  decreed  not  to  sing  in 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

my  cage.  If  I  had  my  mouth,  I  would  bite ;  if 
I  had  my  Hberty,  I  would  do  my  liking :  in  the 
meantime  let  me  be  that  I  am,  and  seek  not  to 
alter  me. 

Con.  Can  you  make  no  use  of  your  discontent  ? 

D.  John.  I  make  all  use  of  it,  for  I  use  it  only.  40 

Who  comes  here? 

Enter  Borachio. 

What  news,  Borachio? 

Bora.  I  came  yonder  from  a  great  supper :  the  prince 
your  brother  is  royally  entertained  by  Leonato; 
and  I  can  give  you  intelligence  of  an  intended 
marriage. 

D.  John.  Will  it  serve  for  any  model  to  build  mis- 
chief on?  What  is  he  for  a  fool  that  betroths 
himself  to  unquietness? 

Bora.  Marry,  it  is  your  brother's  right  hand. 

D.John.  Who?  the  most  exquisite  Claudio  ?  50 

Bora.  Even  he. 

D.John.  A  proper  squire!  And  who,  and  who? 
which  way  looks  he? 

Bora.  Marry,   on   Hero,   the   daughter   and  heir   of  • 
Leonato.  <du'eJbut^  ^-^^^Sl^^ 

D.John.  A  verv  forward  Alarch-chick !     How  came  ^^^'^^■^'"^^ 
you  to  this'?^^,^,^^^  f^tiU^ty. 

BorcL  Being  ent^min  en  for  a  perfumer,  as  I  was  ' 
•ysmo^^^ /musty  room,  comes  me  the  prince 
and  Claudio,  hand  in  hand,  in  sad  conference :  .  60, 
I  whipt  me  behind  the  arras;  and  there  heard 
it  agreed  upon,  that  the  prince  should  woo  Hero 
for  himself,  and  having  obtained  her,  give  her 
to  Count  Claudio. 

38 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

D.  John.  Come,  come,  let  us  thither:  this  may  prove 
food  to  my  displeasure.  That  young  start-up 
hath  all  the  glory  of  my  overthrow :  if  I  can 
cross  him  any  way,  I  bless  myself  every  way. 
You  are  both  sure,  and  will  assist  me  ? 

Con.  To  the  death,  my  lord.  yo 

D.John.  Let  us  to  the  great  supper:  their  cheer  is 
the  greater  that  I  am  subdued.  Would  the  cook 
were  of  my  mind !  Shall  we  go  prove  what 's  to 
be  done? 

Bora.  We  '11  wait  upon  your  lordship.  [Exeunt, 


ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

A  hall  in  Leonato's  house. 
Enter  Leonato,  Antonio,  Hero,  Beatrice,  and  others, 


Leon.  Was  not  Count  John  here  at  supper?     ^.  .  0 


Ant.  I  saw  him  not.  q^,  tfc^uT --*4it.*/2i*- 

Beat.  How  tarth-  that  gentleman  looks  !     I  never  can  ^[g^^^_^^^,»^ 

see  him  but  I  am  heart -burned  an  hour  after.  ^^  .^^^^  G^^^C^ 
Hero.  He  is  of  a  very  melancholy  disposition.       ^-£j^ji,tjtjC^'tJusct»^ 
Beat.  He  were  an  excellent  man  that  were  made  just  /^         -p 
t«'«MA  i     ^^  ^^^  midway  between  him  and  Benedick :   the    Ujgjt^^^  juuu 
!C»'7aiiii»«4»*^^^  is  too  like  an  image  and  says  nothing,  and     a      -* 

VaTfl'     the  other  too  like  my  lady's  eldest  son,  evermore  -^mu*.  U^m0j 
i*^*r'  tattling.  n^ijurtAO^ 

Leon.  Then  half  Signior  Benedick's  tongue  in  Count  US  /t-MjLct^ 
John's  mouth,  and  half  Count  John's  melancholy      ^*^/t 
In  Signior  Benedick's  face, —  ff  -f*- 

Beat.  With  a  good  leg  and  a  good  foot,  uncle,  and 

39 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

money  enough  in  his  purse,  such  a  man  would 
win  any  woman  in  the  world,   if  a'  could  get 
her  good-will. 
Leon.  By  my  troth,  niece,  thou  w^lt  n^Ye^r  get  thee  a 

husband,  if  thou  be  so '?nTfe^^(t^5?'tny  tongue. 
Ant.  In  faith,  she's  too  curst xA^>cc66/z^ft^^  20 

Beat.  Too  curst  is  more  than  curst:    I  shall  lessen 
God's  sending  that  way ;    for  it  is  said,   '  God 
sends  a  curst  cow  short  horns  ' ;    but  to  a  cow 
too  curst  he  sends  none. 
Leon.  So,  by  being  too  curst,  God  will  send  you  no 

horns. 
Beat.  Just,  if  he  send  me  no  husband ;   for  the  which 
blessing  I  am  at  him  upon  my  knees  every  morn- 
ing and  evening.     Lord,  I  could  not  endure  a 
husband  with  a  beard  on  his  face:   I  had  rather     30 
lie  in  the  woollen. 
Leon.  You  may  light  on  a  husband  that  hath  no 

beard. 
Beat.  What  should  I  do  with  him  ?  dress  him  in  my 
apparel,  and  make  him  my  waiting-gentle- 
woman ? /He  that  hath  a  beard  is  more  than  a 
youth ;  and  lie  that  hath  no  beard  is  less  than  a 
man :  and  he  that  is  more  than  a  youth  is  not 
for  me;  and  he  that  is  less  than  a  man,  I  am 
odfrnxArn'O  not   for  him :  ^tnerefore   I   will   even   take   six 

_  iru^ 

f^Jk^M^  apes  into  helLj 
l^gtjO  Leon.  Well,  then,  go  you  into  hell? 
^^^^  Beat.  No,  but  to  the  gate;  and  there  will  the  devil 
j^  meet  me,  like  an  old  cuckold,  with  horns  on  his 
^J^'^'  head,  and  say  '  Get  you  to  heaven,  Beatrice,  get 
^4Lc^'  you  to  heaven  ;  here  's  no  place  for  you  maids  ' : 
x^ocMlk*Mf»,  so  deliver  I  up  my  apes,  and  away  to  Saint  Peter 


jfM^ftuta^  pence  m  earn£^st  of  the  bear-ward,  and  lead  his     40 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

for  the  heavens  ;  he  shows  me  where  the  bache- 
lors sit,  and  there  Uve  we  as  merry  as  the  day  is 
long. 

Jut.    [To   Hero]   Well,   niece,   I   trust  you   will   be     50 
ruled  by  your  father. 

Beat.  Yes,  faith;  it  is  my  cousin's  duty  to  make 
courtesy,  and  say,  '  Father,  as  it  please  you.* 
But  yet  for  all  that,  cousin,  let  him  be  a  hand- 
some fellow,  or  else  make  another  courtesy,  and 
say,  '  Father,  as  it  please  me.' 

Leon.  Well,  niece,  I  hope  to  see  you  one  day  fitted 
with  a  husband. 

Beat.  Not  till  God  make  men  of  some  other  metal 

than  earth.  Would  it  not  grieve  a  woman  to  be  60 
overmastered  with  a  piece  of  valiant  dust?  to 
make  ^^a^CQimtA)f  her  life  to  a  clod  of  way- 
ward^^^^f^^^Sr^^cle,  I  '11  none :  Adam's 
sons  are  my  brethren ;  and,  truly,  I  hold  it  a 
sin  to  match  in  my  kindred. 

Leon.  Daughter,  remember  what  I  told  you :  if  the 
prince  do  solicit  you  in  that  kind,  you  know 
your  answer. 

Beat.  The  fault  will  be  in  the  music,  cousin,  if  you 

be  noi  wooed  in  good  time :    if  the  prince  be     70 
too  ^ii^^^M£i,t e(r  mm  there  is  measure  in  every 
thing,  and  so  dance  out  the  answer.     For,  hear 
me.  Hero :    wooing^d^,  and^r^entW^  ^  ■ 
as  a  Scotch  jig,  a.  me^affprnr^cmc^^  jo      \ 

the  first  suit  is  hot  and  hasn',  like  a  Scotch  jig, 
and  full  as  fantastical ;  the  wedding,  mannerly- 
modest,  as  a  measure,  full  of  state  and  ancientry ; 
and  then  comes  repentance,  and,  with  his  bad 

41 


dL^>^ 


y 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

legs,  falls  into  the  cinque  pace  faster  and  faster, 

till  he  sink  a-pace  into  his  grave.  80 

Leon.  Cousin,  you  apprehend  passing  shrewdly. 
Beat.  I  have  a  good  eye,  uncle ;    I  can  see  a  church 

by  daylight. 
Leon.  The    revellers    are    entering,    brother:     make 

good  room.  [All  put  on  their  masks. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  Benedick,  Balthasar,  Don 
John,  Borachio,  Margaret,  Ursula,  and  others,  masked. 


^^^■^^*^.  Pedro.  Lady,    will    you    walk    about    with    your 


l^ji^^  Hero.  So  you  walk  softly,  and  look  sweetly,  and  say 
QjjQgfj^      nothing,  I  am  yours  for  the  walk  ;  and  especially 

when  I  walk  away.  90 

f-^  •       D.  Pedro.  With  me  in  your  company  ? 
5*^3^     Hero.  I  may  say  so,  when  I  please. 

D.  Pedro.  And  when  pl^ase^ou  to  say  so  ?  Jlwl^vfi 

Hero.  When  I  like  youvmimxr;foT  God  defend  the 
^  lute  should  be  like  Ihe  case ! 

/'fgjg^g^^^R'  Pedro.  My  visor  is  jrhilemon's  roof ;    within  the 
.  /^       '     house  is  Jove. 

u/^        Hero.  Why,  then,  your  visor  should  be  thatched. 
(e^'i^  Z).  Pedro.  Speak  low,  if  you  speak  love. 

[Drawijig  her  aside. 

Balth.  Well,  I  would  you  did  like  me.  100 

^^^'  Marg.  So  would  not  I,  for  your  own  sake;    for  I 
rgxiuj  \v3cs[^  many  ill  qualities. 

^n  Balth.  Which  is  one? 

Marg.  I  say  my  prayers  aloud. 
*^|^^7^  Balth.  I  love  you  the  better:    the  hearers  may  cry, 

l/i    Amen. 

42 


t4^^^ 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 


\ 


Marg.  God  match  me  with  a  good  dancer  ! 

Balth.  Amen. 

Marg.  And  God  keep  him  out  of  my  sight  when  the 

dance  is  done!     Answer,  clerk.  no 

Balth.  No  more  words  :  the  clerk  is  answered. 
Urs.  I  know  you  well  enough ;   you  are  Signior  An- 
tonio. 
Ant.  At  a  word,  I  am  not. 

Urs.  I  know  you  by  the  waggling  of  your  head. 
Ant.  To  tell  you  true,  I  counterfeit  him. 
Urs.  You  could  never  do  him  so  ill-well,  unless  you 

were  the  very  man.     Here  's  his  dry  hand  up 

and  down  :  you  are  he,  you  are  he. 
Ant.  At  a  word,  I  am  not.  120 

Urs.  Come,  come,  do  you  think  I  do  not  know  you 

by  your  excellent  wit?    can  virtue  hide  itself? 

Go  to,  mum,  you  are  he :    graces  will  appear, 

and  there  's  an  end. 
Beat.  Will  you  not  tell  me  who  told  you  so? 
Bene.  No,  you  shall  pardon  me. 
Beat.  Nor  will  you  not  tell  me  who  you  are  ? 
Bene.  Not  now. 
Beat.  That  I  was  disdainful^ndijiat  I  ha^  rav  good 

wit  out  of  the  '  HugSlfex^s-^*^^! 

this  was  Signior  Benedick  that  said  so. 
Bene.  What's  he? 

Beat.  I  am  sure  you  know  him  well  enough. 
Bene.  Not  I,  believe  me. 
Beat.  Did  he  never  make  you  laugh? 
Bene.  I  pray  you,  what  is  he? 
Beat.  Why,  he  is  the  prince's  jester:    a  very  dull 

fool ;     only   his   gift   is   in    devising   impossible 

43 


>»-&^ 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

slanders :  none  but  libertines  delight  in  him ; 
and  the  commendation  is  not  in  his  wit,  but  in  140 
his  villany ;  for  he  both  pleases  men  and  angers 
them,  and  then  they  laughatlu^  and  beat  him. 
I  am  sure  he  is  in  the  ne|t:  J^  would  he  had 
^b^S^me^ 

Bene.  When  I  know  the  gentleman,  I  '11  tell  him 
what  you  say. 

Beat.  Do,  do ;  he  '11  but  break  a  comparison  or  two 
on  me ;  which,  peradventure  not  marked  or  not 
laughed  at,  strikes  him  into  melancholy;  and 
then  there  's  a  partridge  wing  saved,  for  the  fool  150 
will  eat  no  supper  that  night.  [Miisic.^  We 
must  follow  the  leaders. 

Bene.  In  every  good  thing. 

Beat.  Nay,  if  they  lead  to  any  ill,  I  will  leave  them 
at  the  next  turning. 

[Dance.     Then  exeunt  all  except  Don  John, 
Borachio,  and  Claiidio. 

D.  John.  Sure  my  brother  is  amorous  on  Hero,  and 
hath  withdrawn  her  father  to  break  with  him 
about  it.  The  ladies  follow  her,  and  but  one 
visor  remains. 

Bora.  And  that  is  Claudio :   I  know  him  by  his  bear- 


160 


D.  John.  Are  not  you  Signior  Benedick? 

Claud.  You  know  me  well ;   I  am  he. 

D.  John.  Signior,  you  are  very  near  my  brother  in 
his  love ;  he  is  enamoured  on  Hero ;  I  pray  you, 
dissuade  him  from  her;  she  is  no  equal  for  his 
birth :  you  may  do  the  part  of  an  honest  man 
in  it. 

Claud.  How  know  you  he  loves  her  ? 

44 


♦  ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

D,  John.  I  heard  him  swear  his  affection. 

Bora,  So  did  I  too;   and  he  swore  he  would  marry  170 

her  to-night. 
D.  John.  Come,  let  us  to  the  banquet. 

[Exeunt  Don  John  and  Borachio. 
Claud.  Thus  answer  I  in  name  of  Benedick, 

But  hear  these  ill  news  with  the  ears  of  Claudio. 

'Tis  certain  so ;  the  prince  wooes  for  himself. 

Friendship  is  constant  in  all  other  things 

Save  in  the  office  and  affairs  of  love : 

Therefore  all  hearts  in  love  use  their  own  tongues ; 

Let  every  eye  negotiate  for  itself, 

And  trust  no  agent ;   for  beauty  is  a  witch,  180 

Against  whose  charms  faith  melteth  into  blood. 

This  is  an  accident  of  hourly  proof, 

Which  I  mistrusted  not.     Farewell,  therefore.  Hero ! 

Re-enter  Benedick. 

Bene.  Count  Claudio? 

Claud.  Yea,  the  same. 

Bene.  Come,  will  you  go  with  me? 

Claud.  Whither? 

Bene.  Even  to  the  next  willow,  about  your  own  busi- 
ness, &mfl^.  What  fashion  will  you  wear  the 
garland  of?  about  your  neck,  like  an  usurer's  190 
chain  ?  or  under  your  arm,  like  a  lieutenant's 
scarf?  You  must  wear  it  one  way,  for  the 
prinoe  hath  got  your  Hero. 

Claud.,  I  wish  him  joy  of  her.  ^^^^^_^  ^^g^^^^  )^<^X^ 

Bene.  \yhy,  that 's  spoken  like  an  honest  drovier  ;   so        /^.    /A^ 
they  sell  bullocks.     But  did  you  think  the  prince  _,— 

would  have  served  you  thus  ? 

45 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO* 

Claud.  I  pray  you,  leave  me. 

BeneAHol  now  you  strike  like  the  blind  man ;  'twas 


t,ai^ 


Mf 


.ej 

r 


the  boy  that  stole  your  meat,  and  you  '11  beat  the  200 
.^''^^  Ipost. 

Claud.  If  it  will  not  be,  I  '11  leave  you.  [Exit. 

Bene,  Alas,  poor  hurt  fowl !  now  will  he  creep  into 
sedges.  But,  that  my  lady  Beatrice  should  know 
me,  and  not  know  me !  The  prince's  fool !  Ha? 
It  may  be  I  go  under  that  title  because  I  am 
merry.  Yea,  but  so  I  am  apt  to  do  myself 
wrong;  I  am  not  so  reputed:  it  is  the  base, 
though  bitter,  disposition  of  Beatrice  that  puts 
the  world  into  her  person,  and  so  gives  me  out.  210 
Well,  I  '11  be  revenged  as  I  may. 

Re-enter  Don  Pedro, 

D.  Pedro.  Now,    signior,    where 's   the   count  ?     did 

you  see  him  ? 
Bene.  Troth,  my  lord,  I  have  played  the  part  of  Lady 

U^  Fame.     I  found  him  here  as  melancholy  as  a 

'  ^  lodge  in  a  warren  :  I  told  him,  and  I  think  I  told 
UjumjUlS  hi"^  true,  that  your  grace  had  got  the  good  will 
\jffJ[i((Lj^jijQjfP^  this  young  lady ;  and  I  offered  him  my  com- 
vaC^o  "P^^y  to  a-  willow-tree,  either  to  make  him  a  gar- 
land, as  being  forsaken,  or  to  bind  him  up  a  rod,  220 
^^^^^^^*'"  as  being  worthy  to  be  whipped. 
(^     D.  Pedro.  To  be  whipped !     What 's  his  fault  ? 

Bene.  The  flat  transgression  of  a  school-boy,  who, 
being  overjoyed  with  finding  a  birds'  nest,  shows 
it  his  companion,  and  he  steals  it. 
D.  Pedro.  Wilt  thou  make  a  trust  a  transgression  ? 
The  transgression  is  in  the  stealer. 

46 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Bene.  Yet  it  had  not  been  amiss  the  rod  had  been 
made,  and  the  garland  too ;    for  the  garland  he 
might  have  worn  himself,  and  the  rod  he  might  230 
have  bestowed  on  you,  who,  as  I  take  it,  have 
stolen  hi-s  birds'  nest. 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  but  teach  them    to  sing,  and  restore 
,  them  to  the  owner. 

Bene.  If  their  singing  answer  your  saying,  by  my 
faith,  you  say  honestly. 

D.  Pedro.  The  Lady  Beatrice  hath  a  quarrel  to  you : 
the  gentleman  that  danced  with  her  told  her  she 
is  much  wronged  by  you. 

Bene.  O,  she  misused  me  past  the  endurance  of  a  240 
block!    an  oak  but  with  one  green  leaf  on  it 
would  have  answered  her ;   my  very  visor  began 
to  assume  life  and  scold  with  her.     She  told  me, 
not  thinking  I  had  been  myself,  that  I  was  the 
prince's  jester,  that  I  was  duller  than  a  great^-^^  A^jJU 
thaw;    huddling  jest  upon  jest,  with  such  im;     ^  c£aA""^* 
possible  conveyance,  upon  me,  thaL^ stood  like    -Oaji^ 
a'^man  at'T^ark,  with  a  whole  army  shooting   yf#*5r< 
^at  me.     !She  speaks  poniards,  and  every  word  ^    ^ 
stabs :   if  her  breath  were  as  terrible  as  her  ter-  250 
minations,  there  were  no  living  near  her;    she 
would  infect  to  the  north  star.     I   would  not 
marry  her,  though  she  were  endowed  with  all 
that  Adam  had  left  him  before  he  transgressed : 
sjie^w.ould  have  made  Herrnles  have  turned  spitT^  ^*^'*'*^ 
yea,  and  have  cleft  his  club  to  make  the  fire  too. 
Come,    talk    not^of    he^     you    shall    find    her 
theiflimiat*i^e  m  good  apparel.     I  would  ^o  ^^fi_^jf^g^^Qg^ 
GoQ  some  scholar  would  conjure  her:    for  cer-       jhf cSkc^ 
•    tainly,  while  she  is  here,  a  man  may  live  as  quiet  26(ir  Jlat^ 

47  lo^A^    4uu0^ 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

in  hell  as  in  a  sanctuary;    and  people  sin  upon 
purpose,  because  they  would  go  thither;    so,  in- 
deed, all  disquiet,  horror,  and  perturbation  fol- 
lows her. 
D.  Pedro.  Look,  here  she  comes. 


Re-enter  Claudio,  Beatrice,  Hero,  and  Leonato. 

Bene.  Will  your  Grace  commanarne  any  service  to 
the  world's  end?     I  will  go  on  the  slightest  er- 
rand now  to  the  Antipodes  that  you  can  devise 
to  send  me  on ;    I  will  fetch  you  a  tooth-picker 
■BfjoiAj-Q^^^    now  from  the  furthest  inch  of  Asia ;   bring  you 
r  jj  the  length  ofyrester  John's  f  opt ;    fetch  you  a  270 

TiXiCC^iy  hair  off  the  ^eat  Cham's  beard ;  do  you  any 
^i^^^-^Oji^  .  embassage  tcPthe  Pigmies ;  rather  than  hold 
'^  ^J'tuoactthv^Q  words'  conference  with  this  harpy.  You 
/     /)  have  no  employment  for  me? 

n        D.  Pedro.  None,  but  to  desire  your  good  company. 
Bene.  O  God,  sir,  here  's  a  dish  I  love  not :   I  cannot 
*'Ullt0Cilk^        endure  my  Lady  Tongue.  \Exit. 

^(^i4^    D.Pedro.  Come,    lady,    come;     you    have    lost    the 
heart  of  Signior  Benedick. 
Beat.  Indeed,  mv  lord,  .he  lenUit  me  awhile;    and  I  280 

gave  him  u?e_for  It^aQOuble  heart  for  his  single 

0-     one:    marry,  once  before  he  won  it  of  me  with 

false  dice,  therefore  your  Grace  may  well  say  I 

have  lost  it. 

D.  Pedro.  You  have  put  him  down,  lady,  you  have 

put  him  down. 
Beat.  So  I  would  not  he  should  do  me,  my  lord,  lest  I 
should    prove    the    mother    of  fools.      I    have 
brought  Count  Claudio,  whom  you  sent  me  to 
seek. 

48 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  how  now,  count !  wherefore  are  you  290 
sad? 

Claud.  Not  sad,  my  lord. 

D,  Pedro,  How  then  ?   sick  ? 

Claud.  Neither,  my  lord. 

Beat.  The  count  is  neither  sad,  nor  sick,  nor  merry,  ju«£»* 

nor  well ;    ];)ut  civil  count,  civil  as  an  orange/^^^*^** 
and  something  of  that  jealous  cornplexion.  ^^    -'    '"  ^ 

D.  Pedro.  V  faith,  lady,  I  think  yomtM^^ff^'^ 
true :  thyiJigh,  I  '11  be  sworn,  if  he  be  so,  his 
^m^W?  laTse.  Here,  Claudio,  I  have  wooed  300 
in  thy  name,  and  fair  Hero  is  won :  I  have  broke 
with  her  father,  and  his  good  will  obtained: 
name  the  day  of  marriage,  and  God  give  thee 
joy! 

Leon.  Count,  take  of  me  my  daughter,  and  with  her 
my  fortunes :  his  Grace  hath  made  the  match, 
and  all  grace  say  Amen  to  it. 

Beat.  Speak,  count,  'tis  your  cue. 

Claud.  Silence  is  the  perfectest  herald  of  joy :  I  were 

but  little  happy,  if  I  could  say  how  much.    Lady,  310 
as  you  are  mine,  I  am  yours :   I  give  away  my- 
self for  you,  and  dote  upon  the  exchange. 

Beat.  Speak,  cousin ;  or,  if  you  cannot,  stop  his 
mouth  with  a  kiss,  and  let  not  him  speak 
neither. 

D.  Pedro.  In  faith,  lady,  you  have  a  merry  heart.       /^^  ttuu 

Beat  Yes.,  my  lord.;   I  thank  it,  poor  fool,  it  keeps  ^^^jx^J^ia 

C^X^the   windy^^aiiig^of   care.     My   cousin   tells ^<^  ^^^,^^^^ 

him  m  his  ear  that  he  is  in  her  heart.  Q   /^  ^ 

Claud.  And  so  she  doth,  cousin.  ^^^/T^uJ 

Beat.  Good   Lord,   for  alliance!     Thus   goes   every    /^^jj^    x 

49  JK^d^ 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

one  to  the  world  but  I,  and  I  am  sun-burnt  ( 
I  may  sit  in  a  corner,  and  cry  heigh-ho  for  a 
husband ! 

D.  Pedro.  Lady  Beatrice,  I  will  get  you  one. 

Beat.  I  would  rather  have  one  of  your  father's  get- 
ting. Hath  your  Grace  ne'er  a  brother  like  you  ? 
Your  father  got  excellent  husbands,  if  a  maid 
could  come  by  them. 

Z).  Pedro.  Will  you  have  me,  lady  ?  330 

Beat.  No,  my  lord,  unless  I  might  have  another  for 
w^orking-days :  your  Grace  is  too  costly  to 
wear  every  day.  But,  I  beseech  your  Grace 
pardon  me:  I  was  born  to  speak  all  mirth  and 
no  matter. 

D,  Pedro.  Your  silence  most  offends  me,  and  to  be 
merry  best  becomes  you ;  for,  out  of  question, 
you  were  born  in  a  merry  hour. 

Beat.  No,  sure,  my  lord,  my  mother  cried ;  but  then 

there  was  a  star  danced,  and  under  that  was  I  340 
born.     Cousins,  God  give  you  joy! 

Leon.  Niece,  will  you  look  to  those  things  I  told 
you  of? 

Beat.  I    cry   you    mercy,    uncle.      By    your   Grace's 

pardon.  [Exit. 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  a  pleasant-spirited  lady. 

Leon.  There 's  little  of  the  melancholy   element  in 
her,  my  lord :    she  is  never  sad  but  when  she 
sleeps ;  and  not  ever  sad  then ;   for  I  have  heard 
my  daughter  say,  she  hath  often  dreamed  of  un-  350 
happiness,  and  waked  herself  with  laughing. 

D.  Pedro.  She  cannot  endure  to  hear  tell  of  a  hus- 
band. 

so 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Leon.  O,  by  no  means :    she  mocks  all  her  wooers 

out  of  suit. 
D.  Pedro.  She  were  an  excellent  wife  for  Benedick. 
Leon.  O  Lord,  my  lord,  if  they  were  but  a  week 

married,  they  would  talk  themselves  mad. 
D.  Pedro.  County  Claudio,  when  mean  you  to  go  to 

church  ?  360 

Claud.  To-morrow,  my  lord :   time  goes  on  crutches 

till  love  have  all  his  rites.  wi 

Leon.  Not  till  Monday,  my  dear  son,  which  is  hence  I 

a  just  seven -night;   and  a  time  too  brief,  too,  to  j 

have  all  things  answer  my  mind.  — — ' 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  you  shake  the  head  at  so  long  a 
breathing:  but,  I  warrant  thee,  Claudio,  the 
time  shall  not  go  dully  by  us.  I  will,  in  the 
interim,  undertake  one  of  Hercules'  labours ; 
which  is,  to  bring  Signior  Benedick  and  the  370 
Lady  Beatrice  into  a  mountain  of  affection  the 
one  with  the  other.  I  would  fain  have  it  a 
match ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  to  fashion  it,  if  you 
three  will  but  minister  such  assistance  as  I  shall 
give  you  direction. 

Leon.  My  lord,  I  am  for  you,  though  it  cost  me  ten 
nights'  watchings. 

Claud.  And  I,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  And  you  too,  gentle  Hero  ? 

Hero.  I  will  do  any  modest  office,  my  lord,  to  help  380 
my  cousin  to  a  good  husband. 

D.  Pedro.  And  Benedick  is  not  the  unhopefuUest 
husband  that  I  know.  Thus  far  can  I  praise 
him ;  he  is  of  a  noble  strain,  of  approved  valour, 
and  confirmed  honesty.     I  will  teach  you  how 

51 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

to  humour  your  cousin,  that  she  shall  fall  in  love 
with  Benedick;  and  I,  with  your  two  helps, 
will  so  practise  on  Benedick,  that,  in  despite  of 
his  quick  wit  and  his  queasy  stomach,  he  shall 
fall  in  love  with  Beatrice.  If  we  can  do  this,  390 
Cupid  is  no  longer  an  archer:  his  glory  shall 
be  ours,  for  we  are  the  only  love-gods.  Go  in 
with  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  my  drift.  [Exeunt, 

Scene  II. 

The  same. 
Enter  Don  John  and  Borachio. 

D.  John.  It  is  so ;  the  Count  Claudio  shall  marry  the 
daughter  of  Leonato. 

Bora.  Yea,  my  lord ;  but  I  can  cross  it. 

D.  John.  Any  bar,  any  cross,  any  impediment  will  be 
medicinable  to  me:  I  am  sick  in  displeasure  to 
him ;  and  whatsoever  comes  athwart  his  affec- 
tion ranges  evenly  with  mine.  How  canst  thou 
cross  this  marriage? 

Bora.  Not  honestly,  my  lord ;  but  so  covertly  that  no 

dishonesty  shall  appear  in  me.  10 

D.  John.  Show  me  briefly  how. 

Bora.  I  think  I  told  your  lordship,  a  year  since,  how 
much  I  am  in  the  favour  of  Margaret,  the  wait- 
ing gentlewoman  to  Hero. 

D.  John.  I  remember. 

Bora.  I  can,  at  any  unseasonable  instant  of  the  night, 
appoint  her  to  look  out  at  her  lady's  charnber 
window. 

52 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 


D,  John.  What  life  is  in  that,  to  be  the  death  of  this 

Bora.  The  poison  of  that  Hes  in  you  to  tempenUo  ^^/ 
you  to  the  prince  your  brother ;  spare  not  to  tell 
him  that  he  hath  wronged  his  honour  in  marry- 
ing the  renowned  Claudio — whose  estimation  do 
you  mightily  hold  up — to  a  contaminated  stale, 
such  a  one  as  Hero. 

D.  John.  What  proof  shall  I  make  of  that  ? 

Bora.  Proof  enough  to  misuse  the  prince,  to  vex 
Claudio,  to  undo  Hero,  and  kill  Leonato.  Look 
you  for  any  other  issue  ?  30 

D.  John.  Only  to  despite  them  I  will  endeavour  any 
thing. 

Bora.  Go,  then ;  find  me  a  meet  hour  to  draw  Don 
Pedro  and  the  Count  Claudio  alone:  tell  them 
that  you  know  that  Hero  loves  me;  intend  a 
kind  of  zeal  both  to  the  prince  and  Claudio,  as, 
— in  love  of  your  brother's  honour,  who  hath 
made  this  match,  and  his  friend's  reputation, 
who  is  thus  like  to  be  cozened  with  the  semblance 
of  a  maid, — that  you  have  discovered  thus. 
They  will  scarcely  believe  this  without  trial :  40 
offer  them  instances ;  which  shall  bear  no  less 
likelihood  than  to  see  me  at  her  chamber-win- 
dow ;  hear  me  call  Margaret,  Hero ;  hear  Mar- 
garet term  me  Claudio;  and  bring  them  to  see 
this  the  very  night  before  the  intended  wed- 
ding,— for  in  the  meantime  I  will  so  fashion  the 
matter  that  Hero  shall  be  absent, — and  there 
shall  appear  such  seeming  truth  of  Hero's  dis- 
loyalty, that  jealousy  shall  be  called  assurance 
and  all  the  preparation  overthrown.  50 

53 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

D,  John.  Grow  this  to  what  adverse  issue  it  can,  I 
will  put  it  in  practice.  Be  cunning  in  the  work- 
ing this,  and  thy  fee  is  a  thf5usand  ducats. 

Bora.  Be  you  constant  in  the  accusation,  and  my 
cunning  shall  not  shame  me. 

D,  John.  I  will  presently  go  learn  their  day  of  mar- 
riage. [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

Leonato's  orchard. 


Bene.  Boy! 


Enter  Benedick. 
Enter  Boy. 


Boy.  Signior? 

Bene.  In  my  chamber-window  lies  a  book:   bring  it 
hither  to  me  in  the  orchard. 

Boy.  I  am  here  already,  sir. 

Bene.  I  know  that;  but  I  would  have  thee  hence 
and  here  again.  [Exit  Boy.^  I  do  much  won- 
der that  one  man,  seeing  how  much  another 
man  is  a  fool  when  he  dedicates  his  behaviours 
to  love,  will,  after  he  hath  laughed  at  such  shal-  lo 
low  follies  in  others,  become  the  a^^^^it  of  his 
own  scorn  by  falling  in  love :  and  such  a  man  is 
Claudio.  I  have  known  when  there  was  no 
music  with  him  but  the  drum  and  the  fife ;  and 
now  had  he  rather  hear  the  tabor  and  the  pipe : 
I  have  known  when  he  would  have  walked  ten 
mile  a-foot  to  see  a  good  armour ;  and  now  will 
he  lie  ten  nights  awake,  carving  the  fashion  of  a 
new  doublet.  He  was  wont  to  speak  plain  and 
to  the  purpose,  like  an  honest  man  and  a  soldier ;     2  j 

54 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Act  II^§c.  iii.     n 

and  now  is  he  turned  orthography ;  his  words 
are  a  very  fantastical  banquet, — just  so  many 
strange  dishes.  May  I  be  so  converted,  and  see 
with  these  eyes  ?  I  cannot  tell ;  I  think  not :  I 
will  not  be  sworn  but  love  may  transform  me  to 
an  oyster ;  but  I  '11  take  my  oath  on  it,  till  he 
have  made  an  oyster  of  me,  he  shall  never  make 
me  such  a  fool.  One  w^oman  is  fair,  yet  I  am 
well ;  another  is  wise,  yet  I  am  well ;  another 
virtuous,  yet  I  am  well :  but  till  all  graces  be  in  30 
one  woman,  one  woman  shall  not  come  in  my 
grace.  Rich  she  shall  be,  that 's  certain ;  wise, 
or  I  '11  none ;  virtuous,  or  I  '11  never  cheapen 
her ;  fair,  or  I  '11  never  look  on  her ;  mild,  or 
come  not  near  me  ;  noble,  or  not  I  for  an  angel ; 
of  good  discourse,  an  excellent  musician,  and 
her  hair  shall  be  of  what  colour  it  please  God. 
Ha !  the  prince  and  Monsieur  Love !  I  will  hide 
me  in  the  arbour.  [Withdrazvs. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claiidio,  and  Leonato. 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  shall  we  hear  this  music  ? 

Claud.  Yes,  my  good  lord.     How  still  the  evening  is,     40 

As  hush'd  on  purpose  to  grace  harmony ! 
D.  Pedro.  See  you  where  Benedick  hath  hid  himself  ? 
Claud.  O,  very  welLmv  Ipr^^^the  music  ended, 

We  '11  fit  the  k^PMcTvuW  a  pennyworth. 

EnWr^althasof  with  Music. 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  Balthasar,  we  '11  hear  that  song  again. 
Balth.  O,  good  my  lord,  tax  not  so  bad  a  voice 

To  slander  music  any  more  than  once. 
D.  Pedro.  It  is  the  witness  still  of  excellency 

55 


Act  !I.  Sc.  iii.  •  MUCH  ADO 

_To  put  a  strange  face  on  his  own  perfection. 

I  pray  tliee,  sing,  and  let  me  woo  no  more.  56 

Balth.  Because  you  talk  of  wooing,  I  will  sing; 

Since  many  a  wooer  doth  commence  his  suit 

To  her  he  thinks  not  worthy,  yet  he  wooes, 

Yet  will  he  swear  he  loves. 
D.  Pedro.  Nay,  pray  thee,  come ; 

Or,  if  thou  wilt  hold  longer  argument. 

Do  it  in  notes. 
Balth.  Note  this  before  my  notes  ; 

There  's  not  a  note  of  mine  that 's  worth  the  noting. 
D.  Pedro.  Why,  these  are  very  crochets  that  he  speaks  ; 

Note,  notes,  forsooth,  and  nothing.  [Air. 

Bene.  Now,  divine  air !  now  is  his  soul  ravished  !     Is     60 

it  not  strange  that  sheeps'  guts  should  hale  souls 

out   of   men's   bodies?     Well,   a   horn    for   my 

money,  when  all 's  done. 

The  Song. 


Balth. 


Sigh  no  more,  ladies,  sigh  no  more. 

Men  were  deceivers  ever, 
One  foot  in  sea  and  one  on  shore. 

To  one  thing  constant  never : 
Then  sigh  not  so,  but  let  them  go. 

And  be  you  blithe  and  bonny. 
Converting  all  your  sounds  of  woe 

Into  Hey  nonny,  nonny. 
Sing  no  more  ditties,  sing  no  moe, 
^jOi  dumps  so  dull  and  heavy; 
The  fraud  of  men  was  ever^soy 

Since  summer  first  was  le" 
Then  sigh  not  so,  &c. 

56 


70 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  a  good  song. 

Balth.  And  an  ill  singer,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Ha,    no,    no,    faith ;     thou    singest    well 

enough  for  a  shift.  80 

Bene.  An  he  had  been  a  dog  that  should  have  howled 
thus,  they  would  have  hanged  him:  and  I  pray 
God  his  bad  voice  bode  no  mischief.  I  had  as 
lief  have  heard  the  night-raven,  come  what 
plague  could  have  come  after  it. 

D.  Pedro.  Yea,  marry,  dost  thou  hear,  Balthasar  ? 
I  pray  thee,  get  us  some  excellent  music ;  for  to- 
morrow night  we  would  have  it  at  the  Lady 
Hero's  chamber-window. 

Balth.  The  best  I  can,  my  lord.  90 

D.  Pedro.  Do  so :  farewell.  [Exit  Balthasar.]  Come 
hither,  Leonato.  What  was  it  you  told  me  of 
to-day,  that  your  niece  Beatrice  was  in  love  with 
Signior  Benedick?^ ^   ^ ^ P^^^^^Cc^ UluIuCU^ 

Claud.  P,  ay:    stalK  on,  stalk  on;    iW  fowl^its.     I      a  a.  n/l    ^ 
did  never  think  that  lady  would  have  loved  any    ' 
man. 

Leon.  No,  nor  I  neither ;    but  most  wonderful  that 
she  should  so  dote  on  Signior  Benedick,  whom 
she  hath  in  all  outward  behaviours  seemed  ever  100 
to  abhor. 

Bene.  Is  't  possible?     Sits  the  wind  in  that  corner? 

Leon.  By  my  troth,  my  lord,  I  cannot  tell  what  to 
think  of  it,  but  that  she  loves  him  with  an  en- 
raged affection  ;   it  is  past  the  infinite  of  thought. 

D.  Pedro.  May  be  she  doth  but  counterfeit. 

Claud.  Faith,  like  enough. 

Leon.  O  God,  counterfeit !     There  was  never  coun- 

57 


£mji>x-^ 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

terfeit  of  passion  came  so  near  the  life  of  passion 

as  she  discovers  it.  no 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  what  effects  of  passion  shows  she  ? 

Claud.  Bait  the  hook  well;   this  fish  will  bite. 

Leon.  What  effects,  my  lord?  She  will  sit  you,  you 
heard  my  daughter  tell  you  how. 

Claud.  She  did,  indeed. 

D.  Pedro,  How,  how,  I  pray  you  ?  You  amaze  me : 
I  would  have  thought  her  spirit  had  been  in- 
vincible against  all  assaults  of  affection. 

Leon.  I  would  have  sworn  it  had,  my  lord;  espe- 
cially against  Benedick.  120 

Bene.  I  should  think  this  a  gull,  but  that  the  white- 
bearded  fellow  speaks  it:  knavery  cannot,  sure, 
hide  himself  in  such  reverence. 

Claud.  He  hath  ta'en  the  infection :   hold  it  up. 

D.  Pedro.  Hath  she  made  her  affection  known  to 
Benedick  ? 

Leon.  No ;  and  swears  she  never  will :  that 's  her 
torment. 

Claud.  'Tis  true,  indeed;  so  your  daughter  says: 
*  Shall  I,'  says  she,  '  that  have  so  oft  encountered 
him  with  scorn,  write  to  him  that  I  love  him?'     130 

Leon.  This  says  she  now  when  she  is  beginning  to 
write  to  him ;  for  she  '11  be  up  twenty  times  a 
night ;  and  there  will  she  sit  in  her  smock  till 
she  have  writ  a  sheet  of  paper:  my  daughter 
tells  us  all. 

Claud.  Now  you  talk  of  a  sheet  of  paper,  I  remember 
a  pretty  jest  your  daughter  told  us  of. 

Leon.  O,  when  she  had  writ  it,  and  was  reading  it 
over,  she  found  Benedick  and  Beatrice  between 
the  sheet?  140 

58 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Claud.  That. 

Leon.  O,  she  tore  the  letter  into  a  thousand  half- 
pence ;  railed  at  herself,  that  she  should  be  so 
immodest  to  write  to  one  that  she  knew  would 
flout  her ;  '  I  measure  him,'  says  she,  '  by  my 
own  spirit ;  for  I  should  flout  him,  if  he  writ  to 
me ;  yea,  though  I  love  him,  I  should.' 

Claud.  Then  down  upon  her  knees  she  falls,  weeps, 
sobs,  beats  her  heart,  tears  her  hair,  prays, 
curses ;  '  O  sweet  Benedick !  God  give  me  pa- 
tience!' 150 

Leon.  She  doth  indeed;  my  daughter  says  so:  and 
the  ecstasy  hath  so  much  overborne  her,  that 
my  daughter  is  sometime  afeard  she  will  do  a 
desperate  outrage  to  herself:    it  is  very  true. 

D.  Pedro.  It  were  good  that  Benedick  knew  of  it  by 
some  other,  if  she  will  not  discover  it. 

Claud.  To  what  end?  He  would  make  but  a  sport 
of  it,  and  torment  the  poor  lady  worse. 

D.  Pedro.  An  he  should,  it  were  an  alms  to  hang 

him.     She's  an  excellent  sweet  lady;    and,  out  160 
of  all  suspicion,  she  is  virtuous. 

Claud.  And  she  is  exceeding  wise. 

D.  Pedro.  In  every  thing  but  in  loving  Benedick. 

Leon.  O,  my  lord,  wisdom  and  blood  combating  in  so 
tender  a  body,  we  have  ten  proofs  to  one  that 
blood  hath  the  victory.  I  am  sorry  for  her, 
as  I  have  just  cause,  being  her  uncle  and  her 
guardian.  /   ,         ,  ^ 

D.  Pedro.   I  would  she  ^MJ^S^^ff *^  ^^^^  '^2^^^  *^" 

me:   I  would  have  d^afffcTaTrother  respects,  and  170 
made  her  half  myself.     I  pray  you,  tell  Bene- 
dick of  it,  and  hear  what  a'  will  say. 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Leoyi.  Were  it  good,  think  you  ? 

Claud.  Hero  thinks  surely  she  will  die ;  for  she  says 
she  will  die,  if  he  love  her  not;  and  she  will 
die,  ere  she  make  her  love  known ;  and  she  will 
die,  if  he  woo  her,  rather  than  she  will  bate  one 
breath  of  her  accustomed  crossness. 

D,  Pedro,  She  doth  well :   if  she  should  make  tender 

of  her  love,  'tis  very  possible  he  '11  scorn  it;  jEor  i8o 
the  man,  as  you  know  all,  hath  a  contemptible'  ''"* 
spirit.  ,  .  .  :  „.-   ^  ^ 

Claud.  He  is  a  very  proper  man.  ^^^aXax  ' 

D.  Pedro.  He  hath  indeed  a  good  outward  happiness. 

Claud.  Before  God !   and  in  my  mind,  very  wise. 

D.  Pedro.  He  doth  indeed  show  some  sparks  that  arc 
like  wit. 

Claud,  And  I  take  him  to  be  valiant. 

-Dt  Pedro,  As  Hector,  I  assure  you :  and  in  the  man- 
aging of  quarrels  you  may  say  he  is  wise;    for  190 
either  he  avoids  them  with  great  discretion,  or 
undertakes  them  with  a  most  Christian-like  fear. 

Leon.  If  he  do  fear  God,  a'  must  necessarily  keep 
peace :  if  he  break  the  peace,  he  ought  to  enter 
into  a  quarrel  with  fear  and  trembling. 

D,  Pedro.  And  so  will  he  do ;  for  the  man  doth  fear 
God,  howsoever  it  seems  not  in  him  by  some 
large  jests  he  will  make.  Well,  I  am  sorry  for 
your  niece.  Shall  we  go  seek  Benedick,  and  tell 
him  of  her  love  ?  200 

Claud.  Never  tell  him,  my  lord :  let  her  wear  it  out 
with  good  counsel. 

Leon.  Nay,  that 's  impossible :  she  may  wear  her 
heart  out  first. 

60 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  we  will  hear  further  of  it  by  your 
daughter:  let  it  cool  the  while.  I  love  Bene- 
dick well ;  and  I  could  wish  he  would  modestly 
examine  himself,  to  see  how  much  he  is  un- 
worthy so  good  a  lady. 

L.eon.  My  lord,  will  you  walk?    dinner  is  ready.  210 

Claud.  If  he  do  not  dote  on  her  upon  this,  I  will 
never  trust  my  expectation. 

D.  Pedro,  Let  there  be  the  same  net  spread  for  her ; 
and  that  must  your  daughter  and  her  gentle- 
women carry.  The  sport  will  be,  when  they 
hold  one  an  opinion  of  another's  dotage,  and  no 
such  matter :  that 's  the  scene  that  I  would  see, 
which  will  be  merely  a  dumb-show.  Let  us 
send  her  to  call  him  in  to  dinner. 

[Exeunt  Don  Pedro,  Claiidio,  and  Leonato. 

Bene.    [Coming  forz^qrd']   Thj^^anjje  npj:rlck:   the  220 
conference  ■  was  Jskdly   borne.     They   have   the 
truth  of  this  from  Hero.     They  seem  to  pity  ;  -«^^^a/v« 
the  lady  :   it  seems  her  affections  have  their  full  '  ,     ,^       .  r;  r^ 
bent.     Love  me!    why,  it  must  be  requited.     I 
hear  how  I  am  censured:    they  say  I  will  bear  --^ 

myself  proudly,  if  I  perceive  the  love  come  from      ^^  "is*'^'^^ 
her ;    they  say  too  that  she  will  rather  die  than  |   ^  ^^^^^ 
give  any  sign  of  affection.     I  did  never  think  to  •     \J    ""T^ 
marry :   I  must  not  seem  proud :   happy  are  they  '. 
that  hear  their  detractions,  and  can  put  them  to  230 
mending.     They   say   the   lady   is    fair, — 'tis   a 
truth,  I  can  bear  them  witness ;   and  virtuous, — 
'tis  so,  I  cannot  reprove  it;    and  wise,  but  for 
loving  me, — by  my  troth,  it  is  no  addition  to  her 
wit,  nor  no  great  argument  of  her  folly,  for  I 
61 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

will  be  horribly  in  love  with  her.  I  may  chance 
have  some  odd  quirks  and  remnants  of  wit 
broken  on  me,  because  I  have  railed  so  long 
against  marriage:  but  doth  not  the  appetite 
alter  ?  a  man  loves  the  meat  in  his  youth  that  he  240 
cannot  endure  in  his  age.  Shall  quips  and  sen- 
tences and  these  paper  bullets  of  the  brain  awe 
a  man  from  the  career  of  his  humour  ?  No,  the 
world  must  be  peopled.  When  I  said  I  would 
die  a  bachelor,  I  did  not  think  I  should  live  till 
I  were  married.  Here  comes  Beatrice.  By 
this  day !  she  's  a  fair  lady :  I  do  spy  some 
marks  of  love  in  her. 

Enter  Beatrice. 

Beat.  Against  my  will  I  am  sent  to  bid  you  come  in 
to  dinner. 

Bene.  Fair  Beatrice,  I  thank  you  for  your  pains.  250 

Beat.  I  took  no  more  pains  for  those  thanks  than 
you  take  pains  to  thank  me :  if  it  had  been  pain- 
ful, I  would  not  have  come. 

Bene.  You  take  pleasure,  then,  in  the  message  ? 

Beat.  Yea,  just  so  much  as  you  may  take  upon  a 
knife's  point,  and  choke  a  daw  withal.  You 
have  no  stomach,  signior:   fare  you  well.  [Exit. 

Bene.  Ha !  *  Against  my  will  I  am  sent  to  bid  you 
come  in  to  dinner ' ;  there  's  a  double  meaning 
in  that.  '  I  took  no  more  pains  for  those  thanks  260 
than  you  took  pains  to  thank  me ' ;  that 's  as 
much  as  to  say.  Any  pains  that  I  take  for  you 
is  as  easy  as  thanks.  If  I  do  not  take  pity  of 
her,  I  am  a  villain ;  if  I  do  not  love  her,  I  am 
a  Jew.     I  will  go  get  her  picture.  [Exit. 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  THIRD. 


%^^   ^/ ■-Scene  I.        ^^^-M^^^  ^  ^"f^ 

3i\    ^(if  Leonato's  orchard.        eilvj**^^  c{  ife^i^^^*^ 
^  'Enter  Hero,  Margaret,  and  Urstda.  >tsAy*^ 

Hero.  Good  Margaret,  run  thee  to  the  parlour ;  fj 

There  shalt  thou  find  my  cousin  Beatrice  TtUWU  ^     -. 

Proposing  with  the  prince  and  Claudio :  J^  .    J^SljJiV>^ 

Whisper  her  ear,  and  tell  her,  I  and  Ursula  ij^^ 

Walk  in  the  orchard,  and  our  whole  discourse      S''^-^*'^^'  ^^% 
Is  all  of  her ;   say  that  thou  overheard'st  us ;  -  ^^"^ ^^^^ 

And  bid  her  steal  into  the  pleached  bower, 
Where  honeysuckles,  ripen'd  by  the  sun, 
Forbid  the  sun  to  enter;    like  favourites. 
Made  proud  by  princes,  that  advance  their  pride     lo 
Against  that  power  that  bred  it :   there  will  she  hide 

her. 
To  listen  our  propose.     This  Is  thy  office; 
Bear  thee  well  in  it,  and  leave  us  alone. 

Marg.  I  '11  make  her  come,  I  warrant  you,  presently. 

[Exit. 

Hero.  Now,  Ursula,  when  Beatrice  doth  come. 
As  we  do  trace  this  alley  up  and  down. 
Our  talk  must  only  be  of  Benedick. 
When  I  do  name  him,  let  it  be  thy  part 
To  praise  him  more  than  ever  man  did  merit : 
My  talk  to  thee  must  be,  how  Benedick  20 

Is  sick  in  love  with  Beatrice.     Of  this  matter 
Is  little  Cupid's  crafty  arrow  made, 
That  only  wounds  by  hearsay. 

Enter  Beatrice,  behind. 

Now  begin; 
63 


liJl<^^ 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

.  eo       For  look  where  Beatrice,  like  a^apwinof,  runs 

_^ t/         Close  by  the  ground,  to  hear  our  conference. 

Jn/jj^^  Urs.  The  pleasant'st  angling  is  to  see  the  fish 
JjJaj/^  Cut  with  her  golden  oars  the  silver  stream, 

'^^^  -/ji  .  And  greedily  devour  the  treacherous  bait: 
So  angle  we  for  Beatrice;  who  even  now 
Is  couched  in  the  woodbine  coverture.  30 

Fear  you  not  my  part  of  the  dialogue. 
Hero.  Then  go  we  near  her,  that  her  ear  lose  nothing 
Of  the  false  sweet  bait  that  we  lay  for  it. 

[Approaching  the  hozver. 

No,  truly,  Ursula,  she  is  too  disdainful ; 
I  know  ^n  spirits  are  as  coy , and  wi4d 


As  haggel 
Urs.  But  are  you  sure 

That  Benedick  loves  Beatrice  so  entirely  ? 
Hero.  So  says  the  prince  and  my  new-trothed  lord. 
Urs.  And  did  they  bid  you  tell  her  of  it,  madam? 
Hero.  They  did  entreat  me  to  acquaint  her  of  it ;  40 

But  I  persuaded  them,  if  they  loved  Benedick, 

To  wish  him  wrestle  with  affection, 

And  never  to  let  Beatrice  know  of  it. 
Urs.  Why  did  you  so  ?     Doth  not  the  gentleman 

Deserve  as  full  as  fortunate  a  bed 

As  ever  Beatrice  shall  couch  upon? 
Hero.  O  god  of  love!     I  know  he  doth  deserve 

As  much  as  may  be  yielded  to  a  man : 

But  Nature  never  framed  a  woman's  heart 

Of  prouder  stuff  than  that  of  Beatrice ;  50 

Di^am'aJid  scorn  ride  sparkling  in  her  eyes, 

Mji^frar^^^hat  they  look  on ;  and  her  wit 

Values  itself  so  highly,  that  to  her 

64 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

All  matter  else  seems  weak:    she  cannot  love, 
Nor  take  no  shape  nor  project  of  affection, 
She  is  so  self-endeared. 

Urs.  Sure,  I  think  so; 

And  therefore  certainly  it  were  not  good 
She  knew  his  love,  lest  she  make  sport  at  it. 

Hero.  Why,  you  speak  truth.     I  never  yet  saw  man. 

How  wise,  how  noble,  young,  how  rarely  featured,  60 
But  she  would  spell  him  backward.;   if  fair-faced,       t^^-'-^-uu. 
She  would  swear  the  gentleman  should  be  her  sister;  '*^  ^^ 
If  black,  why.  Nature,  drawing  of  an  antique,         s4>  {H^ju 
Made  a  foul  blot;   if  tall,  a  lance  ill-headed;  ^k^^ru 

If  low,  an  agate  very  vilely  cut;  ,., ,,  -^ 

If  speaking,  why,  a  vane  blown  with  all  winds ;       '-^'A-L^'^b^^^i^^ 
If  silent,  why,  a  block  moved  with  none.  '^^sjlOjA  a/iu. 

So  turns  she  every  man  the  wrong  side  out ;  „  ^  ANeuu,ffl-, 
And  never  gives  to  truth  and  virtue  that  y  .  f ,  *  ^ 

Which  simpleness  and  merit  purchaseth.  .    *m'^^^^A'' 

Urs.  Sure,  sure,  such  carping  is  not  commendable. 

Hero.  No,  not  to  bfe  so  odd,  and  from  all  fashions. 
As  Beatrice  is,  cannot  be  commendable : 
But  who  dare  tell  her  so?     If  I  should  speak. 
She  would  mock  me  into  air;    O,  she  would  laugh 

me 
Out  of  myself,  press  me  to  death  with  wit ! 
Therefore  let  Benedick,  Hke  cover'd  fire, 
Consume  away  in  sighs,  waste  inwardly : 
It  were  a  better  death  than  die  with  mocks, 
Which  is  as  bad  as  die  Vv^th  tickling.  80 

IJrs,    Yet  tell  her  of  it :  hear  what  she  will  say. 

Hero.  No,  rather  I  will  go  to  Benedick, 

And  counsel  him  to  fight  against  his  passion. 
And,  truly,  I  '11  devise  some  honest  slanders 

65 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

To  stain  my  cousin  with :   one  doth  not  know 
How  much  an  ill  word  may  empoison  liking. 
Urs,  O,  do  not  do  your  cousin  such  a  wrong ! 

She  cannot  be  so  much  without  true  judgement, — 
Having  so  swift  and  excellent  a  wit 
As  she  is  prized  to  have, — as  to  refuse  90 

So  rare  a  gentleman  as  Signior  Benedick. 
Hero.  He  is  the  only  man  of  Italy, 

Always  excepted  my  dear  Claudio. 
Urs.  I  pray  you,  be  not  angry  with  me,  madam, 
Speaking  my  fancy :    Signior  Benedick, 
For  shape,  for  bearing,  argument  and  valour, 
Goes  foremost  in  report  through  Italy. 
Hero.  Indeed,  he  hath  an  excellent  good  name. 
Urs.  His  excellence  did  earn  it,  ere  he  had  it. 

When  are  you  married,  madam  ?  100 

Hero.  Why,  every  day,  to-morrow.     Come,  go  in : 

I  '11  show  thee  some  attires ;   and  have  thy  counsel 
Which  is  the  best  to -furnish  nie  tp-jnorrow. 
Urs.  SnPsmntSTT  warrant  }^u:    wenave  caught  her, 

madam. 
Hero.  If  it  prove  so,  then  loving  goes  by  haps : 

Some  Cupid  kills  with  arrows,  some  with  traps. 

[Exeunt  Hero  and  Ursula. 
Beat.    [Coming  forzvard]    What    fire    is    in    mine    ears? 

Can  this  be  true  ? 
;  ^  S^-  Stand  I  condemn'd  for  pride  and  scorn  so  much? 
Jr^Contempt,  farewell !  and  maiden  pride,  adieu !        no 
No  glory  lives  behind  the  back  of  such. 
And,  Benedick,  love  on ;   I  will  requite  thee, 
Taming  my  wild  heart  to  thy  loving  hand : 
If  thou  dost  love,  my  kindness  shall  incite  thee 
To  bind  our  loves  up  in  a  holy  band ; 

66 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

For  others  say  thou  dost  deserve,  and  I 

BeHeve  it  better  than  ^ei^ii^fy^^'^'^^^^r     [Exit, 

Scene  II. 

'A  room  in  Leonato's  house. 
Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudia,  Benedick,  and  Leonato, 

D.  Pedro.  I  do  but  stay  till  your  marriage  be  con- 
summate, and  then  go  I  toward  Arragon. 

Claud.  I  '11  bring  you  thither,  my  lord,  if  you  '11 
vouchsafe  me.  * 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  that  v^ould  be  as  great  a  soil  in  the 
new  gloss  of  your  marriage,  as  to  show  a  child 
his  new  coat  and  forbid  him  to  wear  it.  I  will 
only  be  bold  with  Benedick  for  his  company; 
for,  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of 
his  foot,  he  is  all  mirth  :  he  hath  twice  or  thrice  lo 
cut  Cupid's  bow-string,  and  the  little  hangman 
dare  not  shoot  at  him ;  he  hath  a  heart  as  sound 
as  a  bell,  and  his  tongue  is  the  clapper,  for  what 
his  heart  thinks  his  tongue  speaks. 

Bene.  Gallants,  I  am  not  as  I  have  been. 

Leon.  So  say  I :   methinks  you  are  sadder. 

Claud.  I  hope  he  be  in  love. 

D.  Pedro.  Hang  him,  truant !  there  's  no  true  drop 
of  blood  in  him,  to  be  truly  touched  with  love; 
if  he  be  sad,  he  wants  money.  20 

Bene.  I  have  the  toothache. 

D.  Pedro.  Draw  it. 

Bene.  Hang  it! 

Claud.  You  must  hang  it  first,  and  draw  it  after- 
wards. 

^7 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

D.  Pedro.  What !  sigh  for  the  toothache  ? 
Leon.  Where  is  but  a  humour  or  a  worm. 
Bene.  Well,  every  one  can  master  a  grief  but  he  that 

has  it. 
Claud.  Yet  say  I,  he  is  in  love.  30 

D.  Pedro.  There  is  no  appearance  of  fancy  in  him, 
unless  it  be  a  fancy  that  he  hath  to  strange  dis- 
guises ;   as,  to  be  a  Dutchman  to-day,  a  French- 
man to-morrow;    or  in  the  shape  of  two  coun- 
tries at  once,  as,  a  German  from  the  waist  down- 
ward, all  slops,  and  a  Spaniard  from  the  hip 
upward,  no  doublet.     Unless  he  have  a  fancy  to 
this  foolery,  as  it  appear^  he  hath,  he  is  no  fool 
for  fancy,  as  you  would  have  it  appear  he  is. 
Claud.  If  he  be  not  in  love  with  some  woman,  there     40 
is  no  believing  old  signs :   a'  brushes  his  hat  o' 
mornings  ;  what  should  that  bode  ? 
D.  Pedro.  Hath  any  man  seen  him  at  the  barber's  ? 
Claud.  No,  but  the  barber's  man  hath  been  seen  with 
him;    and  the  old  ornament  of  his  cheek  hath 
already  stuffed  tennis-balls. 
.        Leon.  Indeed,  he  looks  younger  than  he  did,  by  the 
^MjUuJ^       ^oss  of  a  beard.  ^ 

^^        D.  Pedro.  Nay,  a'  rubs  himself  with  civet :   can  you 

&j^  smell  him  out  by  that  ?  50 

J5^  Claud.  That 's  as  much  as  to  say,  the  sweet  youth  's 
^MJf  in  love. 

\t  D.  Pedro.  The  greatest  note  of  it  is  his  melancholy. 

Claud.  And  when  was  he  wont  to  wash  his  face? 
D.  Pedro.  Yea,  or  to  paint  himself  ?  for  the  which,  I 

hear  what  they  say  of  him. 
Claud.  Nay,  but  his  jesting  spirit;    which  is  now 

68 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

creot  into  a  lute-string,  and  now  gaverned  bv 

D,  Pedro.   Indeed,  that  tells  a  heavy  tale  for  him :     60 

conclude,  conclude  he  is  in  love. 
Claud.   Nay,  but  I  know  who  loves  him. 
D.  Pedro.  That  would  I  know  too :    I  warrant,  one 

that  knows  him  not. 
Claud.  Yes,  and  his  ill  conditions ;    and,  in  despite 

of  all,  dies  for  him. 
D.  Perdo.  She  shall  be  buried  with  her  face  upwards. 
Bene.  Yet  is  this  no  charm  for  the  toothache.     Old 

signior,   walk  aside  with   me:    I   have   studied 

eight  or  nine  wise  words^to  speaic  to  you,  which     70 

these  h^^m0^mim^r. 

[Exeunt  Benedick  and  Leonato. 
D.  Pedro,  For   my    life,    to   break   with   him    about 

Beatrice. 
Claud.  'Tis  even  so.     Hero  and  Margaret  have  by 

this  played  their  parts  with  Beatrice ;    and  then 

the  two  bears  will  not  bite  one  another  when 

they  meet. 

Enter  Don  John. 

D.  John.  My  lord  and  brother,  God  save  you ! 

D.  Pedro.  Good  den,  brother. 

D.  John.  If  your  leisure  served,  I  would  speak  with     80 

you. 
D.  Pedro.  In  private  ? 
IJ.  John.  If  it  please  you :    yet  Count  Claudio  may 

hear ;  for  what  I  would  speak  of  concerns  him. 
D.  Pedro,  What 's  the  matter  ? 

69 


Act  IIL  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

D.John,  [To  Claudia]  Means  your  lordship  to  be 
married  to-morrow  ? 

D,  Pedro.  You  know  he  does. 

D,  John.  I  know  not  that,  when  he  knows  what  I     90 
know. 

Claud.  If  there  be  any  impediment,  I  pray  you  dis- 
cover it. 

D.  John.  You  may  think  I  love  you  not :  let  that 
appear  hereafter,  and  aim  better  at  me  by  that  I 
now  will  manifest.  For  my  brother,  I  think  he 
holds  you  well,  and  in  dearness  of  heart  hath 
holp  to  effect  your  ensuing  marriage, — surely 
suit  ill  spent  and  labour  ill  bestowed. 

D,  Pedro.  Why,  what 's  the  matter?  100 

D.John.  I  came  hither  to  tell  you;  and,  circum- 
stances shortened,  for  she  has  been  too  long  a 
talking  of,  the  lady  is  disloyal. 

Claud.  Who,  Hero? 

D.John.  Even  she;  Leonato's  Hero,  your  Hero, 
every  man's  Hero. 

Claud.  Disloyal? 

D.  John.  The  word  is  too  good  to  paint  out  her 
wickedness  ;  I  could  say  she  were  worse  :  think 
you  of  a  worse  title,  and  I  will  fit  her  to  it.  no 
Wonder  not  till  further  warrant :  go  but  with 
me  to-night,  you  shall  see  her  chamber-window 
entered,  even  the  night  before  her  wedding-day : 
if  you  love  her  then,  to-morrow  wed  her ;  but  it 
would  better  fit  your  honour  to  change  your 
mind. 

Claud.  May  this  be  so  ? 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  not  think  it. 

D.  John.  If  you  dare  not  trust  that  yeu  see,  confess 

70 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  Hi. 

not  that  you  know :    if  you  will  follow  me,  I 

will  show  you  enough ;   and  when  you  have  seen   120 

more,  and  heard  more,  proceed  accordingly. 
Claud.  If  I  see  any  thing  to-night  why  I  should  not 

marry    her    to-morrow,    in    the    congregation, 

where  I  should  wed,  there  will  I  shame  her. 
D.  Pedro.  And,  as  I  wooed  for  thee  to  obtain  her, 

I  will  join  with  thee  to  disgrace  her. 
D,  John.  I  will  disparage  her  no  farther  till  you  are 

my  witnesses :    bear  it  coldly  but  till  midnight, 

and  let  the  issue  show  itself. 
D.  Pedro.  O  day  untowardly  turned !  130 

Claud.  O  mischief  strangely  thwarting ! 
D.  John.  O  plague  right  well  prevented!   so  will  you 

say  when  you  have  seen  the  sequel.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

A  street.       _>  -  . 

Enter  Dogberry  and  Verges  with  the  Watch.  0 

Dog,  Are  you  good  men  and  true?  f^^J^UOtru 

Verg.  Yea,  or  else  it  were  pity  but  they  should  suffer  (f^  <? 
salvation,  body  and  soul.  ^ 

Dog,  Nay,  that  were  a  punishment  too  good  for  ^^^'t^^-^^^^'^-— 
them,  if  they  should  have  any  allegiance  in  them,  i^aji'-e^^ , 
being  chosen  for  the  prince's  watch.  'iJOtOJcIh 

Verg.  Well,  give  them  their  charge,  neighbour  Dog- 
berry. 

Dog.  First,  who  think  you  the  most  desartless  man 

to  be  constable  ?  10 

Eirst  Watch.  Hugh    Otecake,    sir,    or    George    Sea- 
cole  ;  for  they  can  write  and  read. 


»r 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Dog.  Come  hither,  neighbour  Seacole.  God  hath 
blessed  you  with  a  good  name :  to  be  a  well- 
favoured  man  is  the  gift  of  fortune ;  but  to  write 
and  read  comes  by  nature. 

Sec.  Watch.  Both  which,  master  constable, — 

Dog.  You  have :  I  knew  it  would  be  your  answer. 
Well,  for  your  favour,  sir,  why,  give  God  thanks, 
and  make  no  boast  of  it ;  and  for  your  writing  20 
and  reading,  let  that  appear  when  there  is  no 
need  of  such  vanity.  You  are  thought  here  to 
be  the  most  senseless  and  fit  man  for  the  con- 
stable of  the  watch ;  therefore  bear  you  the  lan- 
tern. Tliis  is  VQur  ^fbarge :  you  shall  compre- 
hend all  v^^^inieit/;  yo&'frero^  bid  any  man 
stand,  in  the  prince's  name. 

Sec.  Watch.  How  if  a'  will  not  stand? 

Dog.  Why,  then,  take  no  note  of  him,  but  let  him 

go ;   and  presently  call  the  rest  of  the  watch  to-     30 
gether,  and  thank  God  you  are  rid  of  a  knave. 

Verg.  If  he  will  not  stand  when  he  is  bidden,  he  is 
none  of  the  prince's  subjects. 

Dog.  True,  and  they  are  to  meddle  with  none  but 
the  prince's  subjects.  You  shall  also  make  no 
noise  in  the  streets ;  for  for  the  watch  to  bab- 
ble and  to  talk  is  most  tolerable  and  not  to  be 
endured. 

Watch.  We  will  rather  sleep  than  talk:    we  know 

what  belongs  to  a  watch.  40 

Dog.  Why,  you  speak  like  an  ancient  and  most  quiet 

watchman ;  for  I  cannot  see  how  sleeping  should 

offend :    only,  have  a  care  that  your  bills  be  not 

stolen.     Well,   you  are  to  call  at  all  the  ale- 

72 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  Hi. 

houses,  and  bid  those  that  are  drunk  get  them 

to  bed. 
Watch.  How  if  they  will  not  ? 
Dog.  Why,  then,  let  them  alone  till  they  are  sober : 

if  they  make  you  not  then  the  better  answer, 

you  may  say  they  are  not  the  men  you  took     50 

them  for. 
Watch.  Well,  sir. 
Dog.  If  you  meet  a  thief,  you  may  suspect  him,  by 

virtue  of  your  office,  to  be  no  true  man  ;  and,  for 

such  kind  of  men,  the  less  you  meddle  or  make 

with  them,  why,  the  more  is  for  your  honesty. 
Watch.  If  we  know  him  to  be  a  thief,  shall  we  not  lay 

hands  on  him  ? 
Dog.  Truly,  by  your  office,  you  may ;    but  I  think 

they  that  touch  pitch  will  be  defiled :    the  most     60 

peaceable  way  for  you,  if  you  do  take  a  thief,  is 

to  let  him  show  himself  what  he  is,  and  steal  out 

of  your  company. 
Vcrg.  You  have  been  always  called  a  merciful  man, 

partner. 
Dog.  Truly,  I  would  not  hang  a  dog  by  my  will, 

much  more  a  man  who  hath  any  honesty  in  him. 
Verg.  If  you  hear  a  child  crying  in  the  night,  you 

must  call  to  the  nurse  and  bid  her  still  it. 
Watch.  How  if  the  nurse  be  asleep  and  will  not  hear     70 

us? 
Dog.  Why,  then,  depart  in  peace,  and  let  the  child 

wake  her  with  crying ;   for  the  ewe  that  will  not 

hear  her  lamb  when  it  baes  will  never  answer  a 

calf  when  he  bleats. 
Verg.  'Tis  very  true. 

73 


Act  HI.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Dog.  This  is  the  end  of  the  charge : — you,  constable, 
are  to  present  the  prince's  own  person :  if  you 
meet  the  prince  in  the  night,  you  may  stay  him. 

Verg.  Nay,  by  'r  lady,  that  I  think  a'  cannot.  80 

Dog.  Five  shillings  to  one  on  't,  with  any  man  that 
knows  the  statues,  he  may  stay  him :  marry,  not 
without  the  prince  be  willing;  for,  indeed,  the 
watch  ought  to  offend  no  man;  and  it  is  an 
offence  to  stay  a  man  against  his  will. 

Verg.  By  'r  lady,  I  think  it  be  so. 

Dog.  Ha,  ah,  ha !  Well,  masters,  good  night :  an 
there  be  any  matter  of  weight  chances,  call  up 
me :  keep  your  fellows'  counsels  and  your  own ; 
and  good  night.     Come,  neighbour.  90 

Watch.  Well,  masters,  we  hear  our  charge :  let  us  go 
sit  here  upon  the  church-bench  till  two,  and  then 
all  to  bed. 

Dog.  One  word  more,  honest  neighbours.  I  pray 
you,  watch  about  Signior  Leonato's  door;  for 
the  weddingbein^  there  to-morrow,  there  is  a 
great  coiuto-iiignt.  Adieu :  be  vigitant,  I  be- 
seech you.'^  [Exeunt  Dogberry  and  Verges, 

Enter  Borachio  and  Conrade, 

Bora.  What,  Conrade! 

Watch.    [Aside]   Peace !   stir  not.  .  lOO 

Bora.  Conrade,  I  say! 

Con.  Here,  man  ;  I  am  at  thy  elbow. 

Bora.  Mass,  and  my  elbow  itched;    I  thought  there 

would  aVcab  follow. 
Con.  I  will  owe  thee  an  answer  for  that:    and  now 
^i      forward  with  thy  tale. 


9^. 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III,  Sa  Hi. 

Bora.  Stand  thee  close,  then,  under  this  pent-hdtiie.      4/c^rMu-^ 
for   it   drizzles   rain ;    and   I   will,   like   a   true    ^j^ 
drunkard,  utter  all  to  thee.  PC&U/^  -^  ^ 

Watch.    [Aside^    Some  treason,  masters :    yet  stand  /luxa^^uu4^ 
close.  i4^zJbt^ 

Bora.  Therefore  know  I  have  earned  of  Don  John  a 
thousand  ducats. 

Con.  Is  it  possible  that  any  villany  should  be  so  dear? 

Bora.  Thou  shouldst  rather  ask,  if  it  were  possible 
any  villany  should  be  so  rich ;  for  when  rich 
villains  have  need  of  poor  ones,  poor  ones  may 
make  what  price  they  will. 

Con.  I  wonder  at  it.  Uu^Af/UlAJUU^^CL^ 

Bora.  That    shows    thou    art    unconrnmeo.     Thou 

knowest  that  the  fashion  of  a  doublet,  or  a  hat,   120 
or  a  cloak,  is  nothing  to  a  man. 

Con.  Yes,  it  is  apparel. 

Bora.  I  mean,  the  fashion. 

Con.  Yes,  the  fashion  is  the  fashion. 

Bora.  Tush !  I  may  as  well  say  the  fool 's  the  fool. 
But  seest  thou  not  what  a  deformed  thief  this 
fashion  is? 

Watch  [Asidc^  I  know  that  Deformed ;  a'  has  been 
a  vile  thief  this  seven  year ;  a'  goes  up  and  down 
like  a  gentleman :    I  remember  his  name.  130 

Bora.  Didst  thou  not  hear  somebody? 

Con,  No :  'twas  the  vane  on  the  house. 

Bora,  Seest  thou  not,  I  say,  what  a  deformed  thief 
this  fashion  is?  how  giddily  a'  turns  about  all 
the  hot  bloods  between  fourteen  and  five-and- 
thirty?  sometimes  fashiqning  ttuem  like  Pha- 
raoh's soldiers  in  the  re^s'e^j  fjMnrfrm,  sometime 
like  god  Bel's  priests  in  the  old  churoh-window, 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

sometime    like    the   shaven     Hercules     in    the 
smirched  worm-eaten  tapestry,  where  his  cod-  140 
piece  seems  as  massy  as  his  club  ? 

Con.  All  this  I  see ;  and  I  see  that  the  fashion  wears 
out  more  apparel  than  the  man.  But  art  not 
thou  thyself  giddy  with  the  fashion  too,  that 
thou  hast  shifted  out  of  thy  tale  into  telling  me 
of  the  fashion  ? 

Bora.  Not  so,  neither :  but  know  that  I  have  to-night 
wooed  Margaret,  the  Lady  Hero's  gentlewoman, 
by  the  name  of  Hero:  she  leans  me  out  at  her 
mistress'  chamber-window,  bids  me  a  thousand  150 
times  good  night, — I  tell  this  tale  vilely: — I 
should  first  tell  thee  how  the  prince,  Claudio 
and  my  master,  planted  and  placed  and  possessed 
by  my  master  Don  John,  saw  afar  off  in  the 
orchard  this  amiable  encounter. 

Con.  And  thought  they  Margaret  was  Hero  ? 

Bora.  Two  of  them  did,  the  prince  and  Claudio ;  but 
the  devil  my  master  knew  she  was  Alargaret; 
and  partly  by  his  oaths,  which  first  possessed 
them,  partly  by  the  dark  night,  which  did  de-  160 
ceive  them,  but  chiefly  by  my  villany,  which  did 
confirm  any  slander  that  Don  John  had  made, 
away  went  Claudio  enraged;  swore  he  would 
meet  her,  as  he  was  appointed,  next  morning 
at  the  temple,  and  there,  before  the  whole  con- 
gregation, shame  her  with  what  he  saw  o'er 
night,  and  send  her  home  again  without  a  hus- 
band. 

First  Watch.  We  charge  you,  in  the  prince's  name, 

stand !  170 

76 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Sec.  Watch.  Call  up  the  right  master  constable.     We 

have  here  recovered  the  ^<^f\,  rl^^fT^^OU?^  pif^r  ^^ 

lechery  tEat  ever  was  known  in  the  common- 

wealtn. 
First  Watch.  And  one  Deformed  is  one  of  them :   I 

know  him ;   a'  wears  a  lock. 
Con.  Masters,  masters, — 
Sec.  Watch.  You  '11  be  made  bring  Deformed  forth, 

I  warrant  you. 
Con.  Masters, —  i8o 

First  Watch.  Never  speak :    we  charge  you  let  us^T)^^^-^*^-" 

obey  you  to  go  with  us.  ,.,i'/^«^ 

Bora.  yVe  are  like  to  prove  a  goodly  commodity,   .         ^   . 

being  taken  up  of  these  men's  .b^s.  ~~    yuxTt/e^ 

Con.  A.    commodity    m    question,    i  warrant  you.     M^J&c^s 

Come,  we  '11  obey  you.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  IV.      _wi 

Hero's  apartment.       y^^i^J*  (,J  (^ 

^Enter  Hero,  Margaret,  and  Ursula.   JJU   a     . 

Hero.  Good  Ursula,  wake  my  cousin  Beatrice7/and       .  r\ 

desire  her  to  rise.  yfXcCCU 

Urs.  I  will,  lady. 
Hero.  And  bid  her  come  hither. 

Urs.  Well.  eatecv.-^tczm'^it. 

Marg.  Troth,  I  think  your  other  rabatgwere  better:  y^^t/vt/^^ 
Hero.  No,  pray  thee,  good  Meg,  I  '11  wear  this.  ~^ £zJljtji^ 

Marg.  By  my  troth  's  not  so  good ;    and  I  warrant  jl        a 

your  cousin  will  say  so.  j(£K$^ 

Hero.  My  cousin  's   a  fool,  and  thou  art  another :     lo 

I  '11  wear  none  but  this. 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  ^n     J,  MUCH  ADO 

Marg.  I  like  the  new  tire  within  excehently,  if  the 
hair  were  a  thought  browner ;  and  your  gown  's 
a  most  rare  fashion,  i'  faith.  I  saw  the  Duchess 
of  Milan's  gown  that  they  praise  so. 

Hero.  O,  that  exceeds,  they  say. 

Marg.  By  my  troth  's  but  a  night-gown  in  respect  of 
yours, — cloth  o'  gold,  and  cuts,  and  laced  with 
silver,  set  with  pearls^dpwn  sleeves,  ^id^  sl|€ves, 
and  skirts,  round  uncremoirf^^vitn^^nnusli  tin-  20 
sel :  but  for  a  fine,  quaint,  graceful  and  excellent 
fashion,  yours  is  worth  ten  on  't. 

Hero.  God  give  me  joy  to  wear  it!  for  my  heart  is 
exceeding  heavy. 

Marg.  'Twill  be  heavier  soon  by  the  weight  of  a  man. 

Hero,  Fie  upon  thee !   art  not  ashamed  ? 

Marg.  Of  what,  lady?  of  speaking  honourably?  Is 
not  marriage  honourable  in  a  beggar?  Is  not 
your  lord  honourable  without  marriage  ?  I  think 
you  would  have  me  say,  *  saving  your  reverence,  30 
a  husband  ' :  an  bad  thinking  do  not  wrest  true 
speaking,  I  '11  offend  nobody :  is  there  any  harm 
in  '  the  heavier  for  a  husband  '  ?  None,  I  think, 
an  it  be  the  right  husband  and  the  right  wife; 
otherwise  'tis  light,  and  not  heavy :  ask  my 
Lady  Beatrice  else ;  here  she  comes. 

Enter  Beatrice. 

Hero.  Good  morrow,  coz. 

Beat.  Good  morrow,  sweet  Hero. 

Hero.  Why,  how  now?    do  you  speak  in  the  sick 

tune  ?  40 

Beat.  I  am  out  of  all  other  tune,  methinks, 

78 


^J^ 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Marg.  Clap  's  into  '  X^ignt  o   love  ' ;    that  goes  with-      ^y 
out  a  burden :   do  you  sing  it,  and  I  '11  dance  it.   Jr^'^^^ 

Beat.  Ye  light  o'  love,  with  your  heels !   then,  if  yowviHulM^^^^^ 
husband  have  stables  enough,  you  '11  see  he  shall      ^^^, 
lack  no  barns.  .  ^^--^ 


Marg.  O  illegitimate  construction !   I  scorn  that  with 

my  heels. 
Beat.  'Tis  almost  five  o'clock,  cousin ;    'tis  time  you 

were  ready.     By  my  troth,  I  am  exceeding  ill:     50 

heigh-ho ! 
Marg.  For  a  hawk,  a  horse,  or  a  husband? 
^gg^.^For  the  letter  that  begins  them  all.  H^' 
Marg.  Well,  an  you  be  not  turned  Turk,  there  's  no 

more  sailing  by  the  star. 
Beat.  What  means  the  fool,  trow? 
Marg.  Nothing   I ;    but   God   send   every  one  their 

heart's  desire! 
Hero.  These  gloves  the  coimt  sent  me ;   they  are  an 

excellent  perfume.  60 

Beat.  I  am  stuffed,  cousin ;   I  cannot  smell. 
Marg.  A  maid,  and  stuffed !  there  's  goodly  catching 

of  cold. 
Beat.  O,  God  help  me!     God  help  me!    how  long 

have  you  professed  apprehension? 
Marg.  Ever  since  you  left  it.     Doth  not  my  wit  be- 
come me  rarely? 
Beat.  It  is  not  seen  enough,  you  should  wear  it  in 

your  cap.     By  my  troth,  I  am  sick.     ^      I  q  ~ty      rL 
Marg.  Get  you  some  of  this  distilled  Carouus  Benef^    70 

dictum  and  lay  it  to  your  heart :    it  is  the  onl^ 

thing  for  a  qualm. 
Hero.  There  thou  prickest  her  with  a  thistle. 

79 


^, 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  MUCH  ADO 

Beat.  Benedictus !  why  Benedictiis  ?  you  have  some 
moral  in  this  Benedictus. 

Marg.  Moral !  no,  by  my  troth,  I  have  no  moral 
meaning ;  I  meant,  plain  holy-thistle.  You  may 
think  perchance  that  I  think  you  are  in  love : 
nay,  by  'r  lady,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  to  think 
what  I  list ;  nor  I  list  not  to  think  what  I  can ;  80 
nor,  indeed,  I  cannot  think,  if  1  would  think  my 
heart  out  of  thinking,  that  you  are  in  love,  or 
that  you  will  be  in  love,  or  that  you  can  be  in 
love.  Yet  Benedick  was  such  another,  and  now 
is  he  become  a  man :  he  swore  he  would  never 
marry ;  and  yet  now,  in  despite  of  his  heart,  he 
eats  his  meat  without  grudging:  and  how  you 
may  be  converted,  I  know  not;  but  methinks 
you  look  with  your  eyes  as  other  women  do. 

Beat.  What  pace  is  this  that  thy  tongue  keeps  ?  90 

Marg.  Not  a  false  gallop. 

Re-enter  Ursula. 

Urs.  Madam,  withdraw:  the  prince,  the  count, 
Signior  Benedick,  Don  John,  and  all  the  gal- 
lants of  the  town,  are  come  to  fetch  you  to 
church. 

Hero.  Help  to  dress  me,  good  coz,  good  Meg,  good 

Ursula.  [Exeunt, 

Ky^  Scene  V.Xa^  ^^luajlJ^^^^^^ 

v^^  /AIV  Another  room  in  Leonato  s  house. 

Enter  Leonato,  zvith  Dogberry  and  Verges. 


/'?S 


Leon.  What  would  you  with  me,  honest  neighbour? 
^'   BU     ^^^-  M3.rry,  sir,  I  would  have  some  confidence  with 
i^r    ^  ^      you  that  de^^^jmi  nearly. 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

Leon.  Brief,  I  pray  you  ;  for  you  see  it  is  a  busy  time 
with  me. 

Dog.  Marry,  this  it  is,  sir. 

Verg.  Yes,  in  truth  it  is,  sir. 

Leon.  What  is  it,  my  good  friends  ? 

Dog.  Goodman  Verges,  sir,  speaks  a  httle  off  the 

matter :    an  old  man,  sir,  and  his  wits  are  not     lo 
so  blunt  as,  God  help,  I  would  desire  they  were ; 
but,   in   faith,   honest  as   the  skin  between  his 
brows. 

Verg.  Yes,  I  thank  God  I  am  as  honest  as  any  man 
living  that  is  an  old  man  and  no  honester 
than  I.  JO^  u/^^Jly^ 

Dog.  Comparisons  are  odorous  :  pajabras,  neighbour 
Verges. 

Leon.  Neighbours,  you  are  tedious. 

Dog.  It  pleases  your  worship  to  say  so,  but  we  are     20 
the  poor   duke's   officers ;    but  truly,   for  mine 
own   part,   if   I   were  as   tedious   as   a  king,   I 
could  find  in  my  heart  to  bestow  it  all  of  your 
worship. 

Leon.  All  thy  tediousness  on  me,  ah? 

Dog.  Yea,  an  't  were  a  thousand  pound  more  than 
'tis ;  for  I  hear  as  good  exclamation  on  your 
worship  as  of  any  man  in  the  city ;  and  though 
I  be  but  a  poor  man,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  30 

Verg.  And  so  am  I. 

Leon.  I  would  fain  know  what  you  have  to  say. 

Verg.  Marry,  sir,  our  watch  to-night,  excepting  your 
worship's  presence,  ha'  ta'en  a  couple  of  as  ar- 
rant knaves  as  any  in  Messina. 
81 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  MUCH  ADO 

Dog.  A  good  old  man,  sir;  he  will  be  talking:  as 
they  say,  When  the  age  is  in,  the  wit  is  out: 
God  help  us !  it  is  a  world  to  see.  Well  said, 
i'  faith,  neighbour  Verges :  well,  God  's  a  good 
man ;  an  two  men  ride  of  a  horse,  one  must  40 
ride  behind.  An  honest  soul,  i'  faith,  sir;  by 
my  troth  he  is,  as  ever  broke  bread ;  but  God 
is  to  be  worshipped ;  all  men  are  not  alike ;  alas, 
good  neighbour ! 

Leon.  Indeed,  neighbour,  he  comes  too  short  of  you. 

Dog.  Gifts  that  God  gives. 

Leon.  I  must  leave  you. 

Dog.  One  word,   sir :    our  watch,   sir,   have  indeed 
comprehended   two  aspicious   persons,   and   we 
would  have  them  this  morning  examined  before     50 
your  worship. 

Leon.  Take  their  examination  yourself,  and  bring  it 
me :   I  am  now  in  great  haste,  as  it  mav  appear 

Dog.  It  shall  be  suffig^iyce. 

Leon.  Drink  some  wine  ere  you  go:    fare  you  welL 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My    lord,    they    stay    for    you    to    give    your 
daughter  to  her  husband. 

Leon.  I  '11  wait  upon  them :   I  am  ready. 

[Exeunt  Lconato  and  Messenger. 

Dog.  Go,  good  partner,  go,  get  you  to  Francis  Sea-     60 
cole ;   bid  him  bring  his  pen  and  inkhorn  to  the 
gaol :    we  are  now  to  examine  these  men. 

Verg.  And  we  must  do  it  wisely. 

Dog.  We   will   spare   for  no   wit,   I   warrant  you; 

82 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

here  's  that  shall  drive  some  of  them  to  a  non-         AmJUO 
come :    only  get  the  learned  writer  to  set  down 
our  excommunication,  and  meet  me  at  the  gaol. 

\Exeunt. 


^^    ACT   FOURTH. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Don  John,  Leonato,  Friar  Francis,  .j„x4.  x'cS 
Claudio,  Benedick,  Hero,  Beatrice,  and  attendants.      Ojf 

Leon.  Come,   Friar  Francis,  be  brief;    only  to  the    CV-^^*^^ 

plain  form  of  marriage,  and  you  shall  recount 

their  particular  duties  afterwards. 
Friar.  You  come  hither,  my  lord,  to  marry  this  lady. 
Claud.  No. 
Leon.  To  be  married  to  her:    friar,   you   come  to 

marry  her. 
Friar.  Lady,  you  come  hither  to  be  married  to  this 

count. 
Hero.  I  do.  lo 

Friar.  If  either  of  you  know  any  inward  impediment 

why  you  should  not  be  conjoined,  I  charge  you, 

on  your  souls,  to  utter  it. 
Claud.  Know  you  any,  Hero? 
Hero.  None,  my  lord. 
Friar.  Know  you  any,  count? 
Leon.  I  dare  make  his  answer,  none. 
Claud.  O,  what  men  dare  do!    what  men  may  do! 

what  men  daily  do,  not  knowing  what  they  do !     20 

83 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Bene.  How  now!     interjections?     Why,  then,  some 
be  of  laughing,  as,  ah,  ha,  he ! 

Claud.  Stand  thee  by,  friar.     Father,  by  your  leave : 
Will  you  with  free  and  unconstrained  soul 
Give  me  this  maid,  your  daughter? 

Leon.  As  freely,  son,  as  God  did  give  her  me. 

Claud.  And  what  have  I  to  give  you  back,  whose  worth 
May  counterpoise  this  rich  and  precious  gift  ? 

D.  Pedro.  Nothing,  unless  you  render  her  again. 

Claud.  Sweet  prince,  you  learn  me  noble  thankfulness.  30 
There,  Leonato,  take  her  back  again : 
Give  not  this  rotten  orange  to  your  friend ; 
She  's  but  the  sign  and  semblance  of  her  honour. 
Behold  how  like  a  maid  she  blushes  here! 
O,  what  authority  and  show  of  truth 
Can  cunning  sin  cover  itself  withal ! 
Comes  not  that  blood  as  modest  evidence 
To  witness  simple  virtue?     Would  you  not  swear. 
All  you  that  see  her,  that  she  were  a  maid, 
By  these  exterior  shows  ?     But  she  is  none  :  40 

She  knows  the  heat  of  a  luxurious  bed ; 
Her  blush  is  guiltiness,  not  modesty. 

Leon.  What  do  you  mean,  my  lord? 

Claud.  Not  to  be  married. 

Not  to  knit  my  soul  to  an  approved  wanton. 

Leon.  Dear  my  lord,  if  you,  in  your  own  proof. 
Have  vanquish'd  the  resistance  of  her  youth, 
And  made  defeat  of  her  virginity, — 

Claud.  I  know  what  you  would  say :  if  I  have  known  her, 
You  will  say  she  did  embrace  me  as  a  husband, 
And  so  extenuate  the  'forehand  sin:  50 

Mr^''  uy/     No,  Leonato, 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

I  never  tempted  her  with  word  too  large ; 

But,  as  a  brother  to  his  sister,  show'd 

Bashful  sincerity  and  comely  love. 
Hero.  And  seem'd  I  ever  otherwise  to  you? 
Claud.  Out  on  thee !     Seeming !     I  will  write  against  it : 

You  seem  to  me  as  Dian  in  her  orb. 

As  chaste  as  is  the  bud  ere  it  be  blown ; 

But  you  are  more  intemperate  in  your  blood 

Than  Venus,  or  those  pamper'd  animals  60 

That  rage  in  savage  sensuality. 
Hero.  Is  my  lord  well,  that  he  doth  speak  so  wide? 
Leon.  Sweet  prince,  why  speak  not  you? 
D.  Pedro.  What  should  I  speak  ? 

I  stand  dishonour'd,  that  have  gone  about 

To  link  my  dear  friend  to  a  common  stale. 
Leon.  Are  these  things  spoken,  or  do  I  but  dream? 
D.  John.  Sir,  they  are  spoken,  and  these  things  are  true.  ft 

Bene.  This  looks  not  like  a  nuptial.  Ipix^/  D>*. 

Hero.  True !    O  God !    -^^I^     . , 

Claud.  Leonato,  stand  I  here? 


„._..__ o^\l^< 

Is  this  the  prince?   is  this  the  prince's  brother?   "07^^^ 


Is  this  face  Hero's  ?  are  our  eyes  our  own  ? 
Leon.  All  this  is  so :  but  what  of  this,  my  lord? 
Claud.  Let  me  but  move  one  question  to  your  daughter ; 

And,  by  that  fatherly  and  kindly  power 

That  you  have  in  her,  bid  her  answer  truly. 
Leon.  I  charge  thee  do  so,  as  thou  art  my  child. 
Hero.  O,  God  defend  me !   how  am  I  beset ! 

What  kind  of  catechising  call  you  this  ? 
Claud.  To  make  you  answer  truly  to  your  name. 
Hero.  Is  it  not  Hero  ?     Who  can  blot  that  name  80 

With  any  just  reproach? 

85 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Claud.  Marry,  that  can  Hero; 

Hero  itself  can  blot  out  Hero's  virtue. 
What  man  was  he  talk'd  with  you  yesternight 
Out  at  your  window  betwixt  twelve  and  one? 
Now,  if  you  are  a  maid,  answer  to  this. 

Hero.  I  talk'd  with  no  man  at  that  hour,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  then  are  you  no  maiden.     Leonato, 
I  am  sorry  you  must  hear :    upon  mine  honour, 
Myself,  my  brother,  and  this  grieved  count 
Did  see  her,  hear  her,  at  that  hour  last  night  90 

Talk  with  a  ruffian  at  her  chamber-window ; 
Who  hath  indeed,  most  like  a  liberal  villain, 
Confess'd  the  vile  encounters  they  have  had 
A  thousand  times  in  secret. 

D.  John.  Fie,  fie !  they  are  not  to  be  named,  my  lord, 
Not  to  be  spoke  of ; 

There  is  not  chastity  enough  in  language. 
Without  offence  to  utter  them.     Thus,  pretty  lady, 
I  am  sorry  for  thy  much  misgovernment. 

Claud.  O  Hero,  what  a  Hero  hadst  thou  been,  100 

If  half  thy  outward  graces  had  been  placed 
About  thy  thoughts  and  counsels  of  thy  heart ! 
But  fare  thee  well,  most  foul,  most  fair !   farewell. 
Thou  pure  impiety  and  impious  purity ! 
For  thee  I  '11  lock  up  all  the  gates  of  love. 
And  on  my  eyelids  shall  conjecture  hang, 
To  turn  all  beauty  into  thoughts  of  harm, 
And  never  shall  it  more  be  gracious. 

Leon.  Hath  no  man's  dagger  here  a  point  for  me? 

[Hero  swoons. 

Beat.  Why,    how    now,    cousin !     wherefore    sink    you 
down?  no 

86 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

D.  John.  Come,  let  us  go.     These  things,  come  thus  to 
light, 
Smother  her  spirits  up. 

[Exeunt  Don  Pedro,  Don  John,  and  Claiidio. 

Bene.  How  doth  the  lady? 

Beat.  Dead,  I  think.     Help,  uncle ! 

Hero!     why,    Hero!     Uncle!     Signior    Benedick! 
Friar ! 

Leon.  O  Fate !  take  not  away  thy  heavy  hand. 
Death  is  the  fairest  cover  for  her  shame 
That  may  be  wish'd  for. 

Beat.  How  now,  cousin  Hero! 

Friar.  Have  comfort,  lady. 

Leon.  Dost  thou  look  up? 

Friar.  Yea,  wherefore  should  she  not?  120 

Leon.  Wherefore !     ^^  hy,  doth  not  every  earthly  thing 
Cry  shame  upon  her  ?     Could  she  here  deny 
The  story  that  is  printed  in  her  blood? 
Do  not  live,  Hero ;   do  not  ope  thine  eyes  : 
For,  did  I  think  thou  wouldst  not  quickly  die, 
Thought  I  thy  spirits  were  stronger  than  thy  shames. 
Myself  would,  on  the  rearward  of  reproaches. 
Strike  at  thy  life.     Grieved  I,  I  had  but  one? 
Chid  I  for  that  at  frugal  nature's  frame  ? 
O,  one  too  much  by  thee!     Why  had  I  one?  ^3°  /    A 

Why  ever  wast  thou  lovely  in  my  eyes?  \    ^* 

Why  had  I  not  with  charitable  hand  I     \)/-<- 

Took  up  a  beggar's  issue  at  my  gates,  \    ki/j^ 

Who  smirched  thus  and  mired  with  infamy,  l  , 

I  might  have  said,  '  No  part  of  it  is  mine ;  I  ^'^^ 

This  shame  derives  itself  from  unknown  loins'?     j  ^a\ 
But  mine,  and  mine  I  loved,  and  mine  I  praised,         I 
And  mine  that  I  was  proud  on,  mine  so  much  | 

87  .  W"-*- 

VJLm4.cO> 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

That  I  myself  was  to  myself  not  mine, 

Valuing  of  her, — why,  she,  O,  she  is  fallen  140 

Into  a  pit  of  ink,  that  the  wide  sea 

Hath  drops  too  few  to  wash  her  clean  again. 

And  salt  too  little  which  may  season  give 

To  her  foul-tainted  flesh! 

Bene.  Sir,  sir,  be  patient. 

For  my  part,  I  am  so  attired  in  wonder, 
I  know  not  what  to  say. 

Beat.  O,  on  my  soul,  my  cousin  is  belied ! 

Bene.  Lady,  were  you  her  bedfellow  last  night  ? 

Beat.  No,  truly,  not;    although,  until  last  night, 

I  have  this  twelvemonth  been  her  bedfellow.  150 

Leon.  Confirm'd,  confirm'd !     O,  that  is  stronger  made 
Which  was  before  barr'd  up  with  ribs  of  iron ! 
Would  the  two  princes  lie,  and  Claudio  lie. 
Who  loved  her  so,  that,  speaking  of  her  foulness, 
Wash'd  it  with  tears  ?     Hence  from  her !   let  her  die. 

Friar.  Hear  me  a  little ; 

For  I  have  only  been  silent  so  long. 
And  given  way  unto  this  course  of  fortune, 
By  noting  of  the  lady :   I  have  mark'd 
A  thousand  blushing  apparitions  160 

To  start  into  her  face ;  a  thousand  innocent  shames 
In  angel  whiteness  beat  away  those  blushes  ; 
And  in  her  eye  there  hath  appear'd  a  fire. 
To  burn  the  errors  that  these  princes  hold 
Against  her  maiden  truth.     Call  me  a  fool ; 
Trust  not  my  reading  nor  my  observations, 
Which  with  experimental  seal  doth  warrant 
The  tenour  of  my  book ;   trust  not  my  age. 
My  reverence,  calling,  nor  divinity, 
88 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

If  this  sweet  lady  He  not  guiltless  here  170 

Under  some  biting  error. 

Leon.  Friar,  it  cannot  be 

Thou  seest  that  all  the  grace  that  she  hath  left 
Is  that  she  will  not  add  to  her  damnation 
A  sin  of  perjury;    she  not  denies  it: 
Why  seek'st  thou,  then,  to  cover  with  excuse 
That  which  appears  in  proper  nakedness? 

Friar.  Lady,  what  man  is  he  you  are  accused  of? 

Hero.  They  know  that  do  accuse  me  ;  I  know  none : 
If  I  know  more  of  any  man  aUve 
Than  that  which  maiden  modesty  doth  warrant,  180 
Let  all  my  sins  lack  mercy !     O  my  father. 
Prove  you  that  any  man  with  me  conversed 
At  hours  unmeet,  or  that  I  yesternight 
Maintain'd  the  change  of  words  with  any  creature, 
Refuse  me,  hate  me,  torture  me  to  death ! 

Friar.  There  is  some  strange  misprision  in  the  princes. 

Bene.  Two  of  them  have  the  very  bent  of  honour ; 
And  if  their  wisdoms  be  misled  in  this, 
The  practice  of  it  lives  in  John  the  bastard, 
Whose  spirits  toil  in  frame  of  villanies.  190 

Leon.  I  know  not.     If  they  speak  but  truth  of  her, 

These   hands    shall    tear    her ;     if    they    wrong    her 

honour. 
The  proudest  of  them  shall  well  hear  of  it. 
Time  hath  not  yet  so  dried  this  blood  of  mine. 
Nor  age  so  eat  up  my  invention. 
Nor  fortune  made  such  liavoc  of  my  means, 
Nor  my  bad  life  reft  me  so  much  of  friends, 
But  they  shall  find,  awaked  in  such  a  kind, 
Both  strength  of  limb  and  policy  of  mind, 

89 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Ability  in  means  and  choice  of  friends,  200 

To  quit  me  of  them  thoroughly. 
Friar.  Pause  awhile, 

And  let  my  counsel  sway  you  in  this  case. 
Your  daughter  here  the  princes  left  for  dead : 
Let  her  awhile  be  secretly  kept  in, 
And  publish  it  that  she  is  dead  indeed ; 
Maintain  a  mourning  ostentation, 
And  on  your  family's  old  monument 
Hang  mournful  epitaphs,  and  do  all  rites 
That  appertain  unto  a  burial. 
Leon.  What  shall  become  of  this?  what  will  this  do?  210 
Friar.  Marry,  this,  well  carried,  shall  on  her  behalf 
Change  slander  to  remorse ;  that  is  some  good : 
But  not  for  that  dream  I  on  this  strange  course, 
But  on  this  travail  look  for  greater  birth. 
She  dying,  as  it  must  be  so  maintain'd. 
Upon  the  instant  that  she  was  accused. 
Shall  be  lamented,  pitied,  and  excused 
Of  every  hearer :   for  it  so  falls  out. 
That  what  we  have  we  prize  not  to  the  worth 
Whiles  we  enjoy  it;   but  being  lack'd  and  lost,      220 
Why,  then  we  rack  the  value,  then  we  find 
The  virtue  that  possession  would  not  show  us 
Whiles  it  was  ours.     So  will  it  fare  with  Claudio : 
When  he  shall  hear  she  died  upon  his  words, 
The  idea  of  her  life  shall  sweetly  creep 
Into  his  study  of  imagination  ; 
And  every  lovely  organ  of  her  life 
Shall  come  apparell'd  in  more  precious  habit. 
More  moving-delicate  and  full  of  life, 
Into  the  eye  and  prospect  of  his  soul,  230 

go 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Than  when  she  Uved  indeed ;  then  shall  he  mourn, 

If  ever  love  had  interest  in  his  liver, 

And  wish  he  had  not  so  accused  her, 

No,  though  he  thought  his  accusation  true. 

Let  this  be  so,  and  doubt  not  but  success 

Will  fashion  the  event  in  better  shape 

Than  I  can  lay  it  down  in  likelihood. 

But  if  all  aim  but  this  be  levell'd  false. 

The  supposition  of  the  lady's  death 

Will  quench  the  wonder  of  her  infamy :  240 

And  if  it  sort  not  well,  you  may  conceal  her, 

As  best  befits  her  wounded  reputation. 

In  some  reclusive  and  reHgious  life, 

Out  of  all  eyes,  tongues,  minds,  and  injuries. 
Bene.  Signior  Leonato,  let  the  friar  advise  you : 

And  though  you  know  my  inwardness  and  love 

Is  very  much  unto  the  prince  and  Claudio, 

Yet,  by  mine  honour,  I  will  deal  in  this 

As  secretly  and  justly  as  your  soul 

Should  with  your  body. 
Leon.  Being  that  I  flow  in  grief,  250 

The  smallest  twine  may  lead  me. 
Friar.  'Tis  well  consented  :  presently  away  ; 

For  to  strange  sores  strangely  they  strain  the  cure. 

Come,  lady,  die  to  live :  this  wedding-day 

Perhaps  is  but  prolong'd :    have  patience  and  en- 
dure. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Benedick  and  Beatrice, 
Bene.  Lady  Beatrice,  have  you  wxpt  all  this  while? 
Beat.  Yea,  and  I  will  weep  a  while  longer. 
Bene.  I  will  not  desire  that. 
Beat.  You  have  no  reason  ;   I  do  it  freely. 
Bene.  Surely  I  do  believe  your  fair  cousin  is  wronged.  260 

91 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Beat.  Ah,  how  much  might  the  man  deserve  of  me 

that  would  right  her! 
Bene.  Is  there  any  way  to  show  such  friendship? 
Beat.  A  very  even  way,  but  no  such  friend. 
Bene.  May  a  man  do  it? 
Beat.  It  is  a  man's  office,  but  not  yours. 
Bene.  I  do  love  nothing  in  the  world  so  well  as  you : 

is  not  that  strange  ? 
Beat.  As  strange  as  the  thing  I  know  not.     It  were 

as  possible  for  me  to  say  I  loved  nothing  so  well  270 

as  you :   but  believe  me  not ;    and  yet  I  lie  not ; 

I  confess  nothing,  nor  I  deny  nothing.     I  am 

sorry  for  my  cousin. 
Bene.  By  my  sword,  Beatrice,  thou  lovest  me. 
Beat.  Do  not  swear,  and  eat  it. 
Bene.  I  will  swear  by  it  that  you  love  me ;  and  I  will 

make  him  eat  it  that  says  I  love  not  you. 
Beat.  Will  you  not  eat  your  word  ? 
Bene.  With  no  sauce  that  can  be  devised  to  it.     I 

protest  I  love  thee.  280 

Beat.  Why,  then,  God  forgive  me! 
Bene.  What  offence,  sweet  Beatrice? 
Beat.  You  have  stayed  me  in  a  happy  hour :    I  was 

about  to  protest  I  loved  you. 
Bene.  And  do  it  with  all  thy  heart. 
Beat.  I  love  you  with  so  much  of  my  heart,  that  none 

is  left  to  protest. 
Bene.  Come,  bid  me  do  any  thing  for  thee. 
Beat.  Kill  Claudio. 

Bene.  Ha !  not  for  the  wide  world.  290 

Beat.  You  kill  me  to  deny  it.     Farewell. 
Bene.  Tarry,  sweet  Beatrice. 

92 


ABOUT  NOTHING.  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Beat.  I  am  gone,  though  I  am  here :  there  is  no  love 
in  you :  nay,  I  pray  you,  let  me  go. 

Bene.  Beatrice, — 

Beat.  In  faith,  I  will  go. 

Bene.  We  '11  be  friends  first. 

Beat.  You  dare  easier  be  friends  with  me  than  fight 
with  mine  enemy. 

Bene.  Is  Claudio  thine  enemy  ?  300 

Beat.  Is  he  not  approved  in  the  height  a  villain,  that 
hath  slandered,  scorned,  dishonoured  my  kins- 
woman ?  O  that  I  were  a  man !  What,  bear 
her  in  hand  until  they  come  to  take  hands ;  and 
then,  with  public  accusation,  uncovered  slander, 
unmitigated  rancour, — O  God,  that  I  were  a 
man !   I  would  eat  his  heart  in  the  market-place. 

Bene.  Hear  me,  Beatrice, — 

Beat.  Talk  with  a  man  out  at  a  window !     A  proper 

saying!  310 

Bene.  Nay,  but,  Beatrice, — 

Beat.  Sweet  Hero!  She  is  wronged,  she  is  slan- 
dered, she  is  undone. 

Bene.  Beat — 

Beat.  Princes  and  counties  !  Surely,  a  princely  testi- 
mony, a  goodly  count.  Count  Comfect ;  a  sweet 
gallant,  surely!  O  that  I  were  a  man  for  his 
sake !  or  that  I  had  any  friend  would  be  a  man 
for  my  sake !  But  manhood  is  melted  into  cour- 
tesies, valour  into  compliment,  and  men  are  only  320 
turned  into  tongue,  and  trim  ones  too :  he  is 
now  as  valiant  as  Hercules  that  only  tells  a  lie, 
and  swears  it.  I  cannot  be  a  man  with  wishing, 
therefore  I  will  die  a  woman  with  grieving. 

93 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

Bene.  Tarry,  good  Beatrice.  By  this  hand,  I  love 
thee. 

Beat.  Use  it  for  my  love  some  other  way  than  swear- 
ing by  it. 

Bene.  Think  you  in  your  soul  the  Count   Claudio 

hath  wronged  Hero?  330 

Beat.  Yea,  as  sure  as  I  have  a  thought  or  a  soul. 

Bene.  Enough,  I  am  engaged ;  I  will  challenge  him. 
I  will  kiss  your  hand,  and  so  I  leave  you.  By 
this  hand,  Claudio  shall  render  me  a  dear  ac- 
count. As  you  hear  of  me,  so  think  of  me. 
Go,  comfort  your  cousin:  I  must  say  she  is 
dead:   and  so,  farewell.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  IL 

A  prison. 

^Enter  Dogberry,  Verges,  and  Sexton,  in  gowns;  and 
the  Watch,  zvith  Conrade  and  Borachio. 

Dog.  Is  our  whole  dissembly  appeared  ? 

Verg.  O,  a  stool  and  a  cushion  for  the  sexton. 

Sex.  Which  be  the  malefactors? 

Dog.  Marry,  that  am  I  and  my  partner. 

Verg.  Nay,  that  's  certain ;  we  have  the  exhibition  to 
examine. 

Sex.  But  which  are  the  offenders  that  are  to  be  ex- 
amined ?  let  them  come  before  master  constable. 

Dog.  Yea,  marry,  let  them  come  before  me.     What 

is  your  name,  friend?  10 

Bora.  Borachio. 

Dog.  Pray,  write  down,  Borachio.     Yours,  sirrah  ? 

Con.  I  am  a  gentleman,  sir,  and  my  name  is  Conrade. 

94 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Dog.  Write  down,  master  gentleman  Conrade. 
Masters,  do  you  serve  God? 

„     ■    Y  Yea,  sir,  we  hope. 
Bora.}  ^ 

Dog.  Write  down,  that  they  hope  they  serve  God : 
and  write  God  first ;  for  God  defend  but  God 
should  go  before  such  villains !  Masters,  it  is 
proved  already  that  you  are  little  better  than  20 
false  knaves ;  and  it  will  go  near  to  be  thought 
so  shortly.     How  answer  you  for  yourselves? 

Con.  Marry,  sir,  we  say  we  are  none. 

Dog.  A  marvellous  witty  fellow,  I  assure  you ;  but 
I  will  go  about  with  him.  Come  you  hither, 
sirrah ;  a  word  in  your  ear :  sir,  I  say  to  you, 
it  is  thought  you  are  false  knaves. 

Bora.  Sir,  I  say  to  you  we  are  none. 

Dog.  Well,  stand  aside.     'Fore  God,  they  are  both 

in  a  tale.     Have  you  writ  down,  that  they  are     30 
none? 

Sex.  Master  constable,  you  go  not  the  way  to  ex- 
amine :  you  must  call  forth  the  watch  that  are 
their  accusers. 

Dog.  Yea,  marry,  that 's  the  eftest  way.  Let  the 
watch  come  forth.  Masters,  I  charge  you,  in 
the  prince's  name,  accuse  these  men. 

First  Watch.  This  man  said,  sir,  that  Don  John,  the 
prince's  brother,  was  a  villain. 

Dog.  Write  down,  Prince  John  a  villain.     Why,  this     40 
is  flat  perjury,  to  call  a  prince's  brother  villam. 

Bora.  Master  constable, — 

Dog.  Pray  thee,  fellow,  peace  :  I  do  not  like  thy  look, 
I  promise  thee. 

95 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

Sex.  What  heard  you  him  say  else  ? 

Sec.  Watch.  Marry,  that  he  had  received  a  thousand 
ducats  of  Don  John  for  accusing  the  Lady  Hero 
wrongfully. 

Dog.  Flat  burglary  as  ever  was  committed. 

Verg.  Yea,  by  mass,  that  it  is.  50 

Sex.  What  else,  fellow  ? 

First  Watch.  And  that  Count  Claudio  did  mean, 
upon  his  words,  to  disgrace  Hero  before  the 
whole  assembly,  and  not  marry  her. 

Dog.  O  villain !  thou  wilt  be  condemned  into  ever- 
lasting redemption  for  this. 

Sex.  What  else? 

Watch.  This  is  all. 

Sex.  And  this  is  more,  masters,  than  you  can  deny. 

Prince  John  is  this  morning  secretly  stolen  60 
away;  Hero  was  in  this  manner  accused,  in 
this  very  manner  refused,  and  upon  the  grief 
of  this  suddenly  died.  Master  constable,  let 
these  men  be  bound,  and  brought  to  Leonato's : 
I  will  go  before  and  show  him  their  examina- 
tion. .  [Exit. 

Dog.  Come,  let  them  be  opinioned. 

Verg.  Let  them  be  in  the  hands — 

Con.  Off,  coxcomb! 

Dog.  God  's  my  life,  where  's  the  sexton  ?    let  him 

write     down,     the     prince's     officer,     coxcomb.     70 
Come,  bind  them.     Thou  naughty  varlet ! 

Con.  Away !  you  are  an  ass,  you  are  an  ass. 

Dog.  Dost  thou  not  suspect  my  place  ?  dost  thou  not 
suspect  my  years  ?  O  that  he  were  here  to  write 
me  down  an  ass !  But,  masters,  remember  that 
I  am  an  ass ;   though  it  be  not  written  down,  yet 

96 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

forget  not  that  I  am  an  ass.  No,  thou  villain, 
thou  art  full  of  piety,  as  shall  be  proved  upon 
thee  by  good  witness.  I  am  a  wise  fellow  ;  and, 
which  is  more,  an  officer ;  and,  which  is  more,  a  80 
house-holder;  and,  which  is  more,  as  pretty  a 
piece  of  flesh  as  any  is  in  Messina ;  and  one  that 
knows  the  law,  go  to ;  and  a  rich  fellow  enough, 
go  to;  and  a  fellow  that  hath  had  losses;  and 
one  that  hath  two  gowns,  and  every  thing  hand- 
some about  him.  Bring  him  away.  O  that  I 
had  been  writ  down  an  ass !  [Exeunt. 


ACT   FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

Before  Leonato's  house. 
Enter  Leonato  and  Antonio. 

'Ant.  If  you  go  on  thus,  you  will  kill  yourself; 
And  'tis  not  wisdom  thus  to  second  grief 
Against  yourself. 

Leon.  I  pray  thee,  cease  thy  counsel, 

Which  falls  into  mine  ears  as  profitless 
As  water  in  a  sieve :   give  not  me  counsel ; 
Nor  let  no  comforter  delight  mine  ear 
But  such  a  one  whose  wrongs  do  suit  with  mine. 
Bring  me  a  father  that  so  loved  his  child. 
Whose  joy  of  her  is  overwhelm'd  like  mine. 
And  bid  him  speak  of  patience ;  10 

Measure  his  woe  the  length  and  breadth  of  mine. 
And  let  it  answer  every  strain  for  strain. 
As  thus  for  thus,  and  such  a  grief  for  such, 

97 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

In  every  lineament,  branch,  shape,  and  form : 

If  such  a  one  will  smile,  and  stroke  his  beard, 

Bid  sorrow  wag,  cry  '  hem  ' !   when  he  should  groan, 

Patch  grief  with  proverbs,  make  misfortune  drunk 

With  candle-wasters ;   bring  him  yet  to  me, 

And  I  of  him  will  gather  patience. 

But  there  is  no  such  man  :   for,  brother,  men  20 

Can  counsel  and  speak  comfort  to  that  grief 

Which  they  themselves  not  feel ;  but,  tasting  it, 

Their  counsel  turns  to  passion,  which  before 

Would  give  perceptial  medicine  to  rage. 

Fetter  strong  madness  in  a  silken  thread, 

Charm  ache  with  air,  and  agony  with  words : 

No,  no ;   'tis  all  men's  office  to  speak  patience 

To  those  that  wring  under  the  load  of  sorrow. 

But  no  man's  virtue  nor  sufficiency. 

To  be  so  moral  when  he  shall  endure  30 

The  like  himself.     Therefore  give  me  no  counsel: 

My  griefs  cry  louder  than  advertisement. 

Ant.  Therein  do  men  from  children  nothing  differ. 

Leon.  I  pray  thee,  peace.     I  will  be  flesh  and  blood ; 
For  there  was  never  yet  philosopher 
That  could  endure  the  toothache  patiently, 
However  they  have  writ  the  style  of  gods, 
And  made  a  push  at  chance  and  sufferance. 

Ant.  Yet  bend  not  all  the  harm  upon  yourself ; 

Make  those  that  do  offend  you  suffer  too.  2}.o 

Leon.  There  thou  speak'st  reason :  nay,  I  will  do  so. 
My  soul  doth  tell  me  Hero  is  belied ; 
And  that  shall  Claudio  know ;   so  shall  the  prince, 
And  all  of  them  that  thus  dishonour  her. 

Ant.  Here  comes  the  prince  and  Claudio  hastily. 

98 


i 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  Don  Pedro  and  Claudio. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  den,  good  den. 

Claud.  Good  day  to  both  of  you. 

Leon.  Hear  you,  my  lords, — 

D.  Pedro.  We  have  some  haste,  Leonato. 

Leon.  Some  haste,  my  lord  !  well,  fare  you  well,  my  lord : 
Are  you  so  hasty  now  ?   well,  all  is  one. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  do  not  quarrel  with  us,  good  old  man.  50 

Ant.  If  he  could  right  himself  with  quarrelling, 
Some  of  us  would  lie  low. 

Claud.  W'ho  wrongs  him  ? 

Leon.  Marry,    thou    dost    wrong    me,    thou    dissembler, 
thou : — 
Nay,  never  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  sword ; 
I  fear  thee  not. 

Claud.  Marry,  beshrew  my  hand, 

If  it  should  give  your  age  such  cause  of  fear: 
In  faith,  my  hand  meant  nothing  to  my  sword. 

Leon.  Tush,  tush,  man;   never  fleer  and  jest  at  me: 
I  speak  not  like  a  dotard  nor  a  fool, 
As,  under  privilege  of  age,  to  brag  60 

What  I  have  done  being  young,  or  what  would  do, 
Were  I  not  old.     Know,  Claudio,  to  thy  head, 
Thou  hast  so  wrong'd  mine  innocent  child  and  me. 
That  I  am  forced  to  lay  my  reverence  by. 
And,  with  grey  hairs  and  bruise  of  many  days, 
Do  challenge  thee  to  trial  of  a  man. 
I  say  thou  hast  beHed  mine  innocent  child ; 
Thy  slander  hath   gone  through  and  through   her 

heart, 
And  she  lies  buried  with  her  ancestors ; 
O,  in  a  tomb  where  never  scandal  slept,  70 

Save  this  of  hers,  framed  by  thy  villany ! 

99 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Claud.  My  villany  ? 

Leon.  Thine,  Claudio;   thine,  I  say. 

D.  Pedro.  You  say  not  right,  old  man. 

Leon.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

I  '11  prove  it  on  his  body,  if  he  dare. 
Despite  his  nice  fence  and  his  active  practice. 
His  May  of  youth  and  bloom  of  lustihood. 

Claud.  Away !   I  will  not  have  to  do  with  you. 

Leon.  Canst  thou  so  dafif  me  ?     Thou  hast  kill'd  my  child : 
If  thou  kill'st  me,  boy,  thou  shalt  kill  a  man. 

Ajit.  He  shall  kill  two  of  us,  and  men  indeed :  80 

But  that 's  no  matter ;  let  him  kill  one  first ; 
Win  me  and  wear  me ;  let  him  answer  me. 
Come,  follow  me,  boy ;   come,  sir  boy,  come,  follow 

me: 
Sir  boy,  I  '11  whip  you  from  your  foining  fence ; 
Nay,  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  wilL 

Leon.  Brother, — 

Ant.  Content  yourself.     God  knows  I  loved  my  niece ; 
And  she  is  dead,  slander'd  to  death  by  villains, 
That  dare  as  well  answer  a  man  indeed 
As  I  dare  take  a  serpent  by  the  tongue :  90 

Boys,  apes,  braggarts,  Jacks,  milksops ! 

Leon,  Brother  Antony, — 

Ant.  Hold  you  content.     What,  man  !   I  know  them,  yea. 
And  what  they  weigh,  even  to  the  utmost  scruple, — 
Scambling,  out-facing,  fashion-monging  boys, 
That  lie,  and  cog,  and  flout,  deprave,  and  slander, 
Go  antiquely,  and  show  outward  hideousness, 
And  speak  off  half  a  dozen  dangerous  words, 
How  they  might  hurt  their  enemies,  if  they  durst ; 
And  this  is  all. 

100 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Leon.  But,  brother  Antony, — 

Ant,  Come,  'tis  no  matter:     lOO 

Do  not  you  meddle ;    let  me  deal  in  this. 

D.  Pedro.  Gentlemen  both,   we  will  not  wake  your  pa- 
tience. 
My  heart  is  sorry  for  your  daughter's  death  : 
But,  on  my  honour,  she  was  charged  wath  nothing 
But  what  was  true,  and  very  full  of  proof. 

Leon.  My  lord,  my  lord, —  . 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  not  hear  you. 

Leon.  No  ?     Come,  brother ;  away !  I  will  be  heard. 

Ant.  And  shall,  or  some  of  us  will  smart  for  it. 

[Exeunt  Leonato  and  Antonio. 

D.  Pedro.  See,  see ;  here  comes  the  man  we  went  to  seek. 

Enter  Benedick. 

Claud,  Now,  signior,  what  news  ?  1 1 1 

Bene.  Good  day,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Welcome,  signior :    you  are  almost  come 

to  part  almost  a  fray. 
Claud.  We   had   like   to   have   had   our   two   noses 

snapped  off  with  two  old  men  without  teeth. 
D.  Pedro.  Leonato  and  his  brother.     What  thinkest 

thou?     Had  we  fought,  I  doubt  we  should  have 

been  too  young  for  them. 
Bene.  In  a  false  quarrel  there  is  no  true  valour.     I   120 

came  to  seek  you  both. 
Claud.  We  have  been  up  and  down  to  seek  thee; 

for  we  are  high-proof  melancholy,  and  would 

fain  have  it  beaten  away.     Wilt  thou  use  thy 

wit? 
Bene.  It  is  in  my  scabbard :   shall  I  draw  it  ? 
D.  Pedro.  Dost  thou  wear  thy  wit  by  thy  side  ? 
Claud.  Never  any  did  so,  though  very  many  have 

lOI 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

been  beside  their  wit.     I  will  bid  thee  draw,  as 
we  do  the  minstrels ;    draw,  to  pleasure  us. 

D.  Pedro.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  he  looks  pale.   130 
Art  thou  sick,  or  angry? 

Claud,  What,  courage,  man !  What  though  care 
killed  a  cat,  thou  hast  mettle  enough  in  thee  to 
kill  care. 

Bene.  Sir,  I  shall  meet  your  wit  in  the  career,  an  you 
charge  it  against  me.  I  pray  you  choose  another 
subject. 

Claud.  Nay,  then,  give  him  another  staff:  this  last 
was  broke  cross. 

D.  Pedro.  By  this  light,  he  changes  more  and  more :  14.0 
I  think  he  be  angry  indeed. 

Claud.  If  he  be,  he  knows  how  to  turn  his  girdle. 

Bene.  Shall  I  speak  a  word  in  your  ear  ? 

Claud.  God  bless  me  from  a  challenge ! 

Bene,  {Aside  to  Claudio]  You  are  a  villain  ;  I  jest 
not:  I  will  make  it  good  how  you  dare,  with 
what  you  dare,  and  when  you  dare.  Do  me 
right,  or  I  will  protest  your  cowardice.  You 
have  killed  a  sv/eet  lady,  and  her  death  shall 
fall  heavy  on  you.     Let  me  hear  from  you.  150 

Claud.  Well,  I  will  meet  you,  so  I  may  have  good 
cheer. 

D.  Pedro.  What,  a  feast,  a  feast  ? 

Claud,  r  faith,  I  thank  him;  he  hath  bid  me  to  a 
calf's-head  and  a  capon ;  the  which  if  I  do  not 
carve  most  curiously,  say  my  knife 's  naught. 
Shall  I  not  find  a  woodcock  too  ? 

Bene.  Sir,  your  wit  ambles  well ;  it  goes  easily. 

D.  Pedro,  I  'U  tell  thee  how  Beatrice  praised  thy  wit 

102 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

the  other  day.  I  said,  thou  hadst  a  fine  wit:  i6o 
'  True/  said  she,  '  a  fine  httle  one.'  '  No/  said 
I,  '  a  great  wit ' :  '  Right/  says  she,  '  a  great 
gross  one.'  '  Nay,'  said  I,  '  a  good  wit ' :  '  Just,' 
said  she,  '  it  hurts  nobody.'  '  Nay,'  said  I, 
'  the  gentleman  is  wise  ' :  '  Certain,'  said  she,  'a 
wise  gentleman/  '  Nay,'  said  I,  '  he  hath  the 
tongues  ' :  '  That  I  believe,'  said  she,  '  for  he 
swore  a  thing  to  me  on  Monday  night,  which  he 
forswore  on  Tuesday  morning  ;  there  's  a  double 
tongue ;  there 's  two  tongues.'  Thus  did  she,  170 
an  hour  together,  trans-shape  thy  particular  vir- 
tues :  yet  at  last  she  concluded  with  a  sigh,  thou 
wast  the  properest  man  in  Italy. 

Claud.  For  the  which  she  wept  heartily,  and  said  she 
cared  not. 

D.  Pedro.  Yea,  that  she  did ;  but  yet,  for  all  that, 
an  if  she  did  not  hate  him  deadly,  she  would 
love  him  dearly  :  the  old  man's  daughter  told 
us  all. 

Claud.  All,  all;   and,  moreover,  God  saw  him  when  180 
he  was  hid  in  the  garden. 

D.  Pedro.  But  when  shall  we  set  the  savage  bull's 
horns  on  the  sensible  Benedick's  head? 

Claud.  Yea,  and  text  underneath,  '  Here  dwells 
Benedick  the  married  man  '  ? 

Bene.  Fare  you  well,  boy:  you  know  my  mind.  I 
will  leave  you  now  to  your  gossip-like  humour : 
you  break  jests  as  braggarts  do  their  blades, 
which,  God  be  thanked,  hurt  not.  IMy  lord, 
for  your  many  courtesies  I  thank  you :  I  must  190 
discontinue   your   company :    your  brother   the 

103 


Aci  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

bastard  is  fled  from  Messina :  you  have  among 
you  killed  a  sweet  and  innocent  lady.  For  my 
Lord  Lackbeard  there,  he  ai\d  I  shall  meet :  and 
till  then  peace  be  with  him.  [E.vit. 

D.  Pedro.  He  is  in  earnest. 

Claud.  In  most  profound  earnest ;  and,  I  '11  warrant 
you,  for  the  love  of  Beatrice. 

D.  Pedro.  And  hath  challenged  thee. 

Claud.  Most  sincerely.  200 

D.  Pedro.  What  a  pretty  thing  man  is  when  he  goes 
in  his  doublet  and  hose,  and  leaves  off  his  wit ! 

Claud.  He  is  then  a  giant  to  an  ape :  but  then  is  an 
ape  a  doctor  to  such  a  man. 

D.  Pedro.  But,  soft  you,  let  me  be :  pluck  up,  my 
heart,  and  be  sad.  Did  he  not  say,  my  brother 
was  fled  ? 

Enter  Dogberry,   Verges,  and  the  Watch,  with  Conrade 
and  Borachio. 

Dog,  Come,  you,  sir:  if  justice  cannot  tame  you,  she 
shall  ne'er  weigh  more  reasons  in  her  balance: 
nay,  an  you  be  a  cursing  hypocrite  once,  you  210 
must  be  looked  to. 

D.  Pedro.  How  now  ?  two  of  my  brother's  men 
bound!     Borachio  one! 

Claud.  Hearken  after  their  offence,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Officers,  what  offence  have  these  men 
done? 

Dog.  Marry,  sir,  they  have  committed  false  report; 
moreover,  they  have  spoken  untruths ;    second- 
arily, they  are  slanders ;    sixth  and  lastly,  they 
have  belied  a  lady;    thirdly,  they  have  verified  220 
104 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

unjust  things;    and,  to  conclude,  they  are  lying 
knaves. 

D.  Pedro.  First,  I  ask  thee  what  they  have  done ; 
thirdly,  I  ask  thee  what 's  their  offence ;  sixth 
and  lastly,  why  they  are  committed;  and,  to 
conclude,  what  you  lay  to  their  charge. 

Claud.  Rightly  reasoned,  and  in  his  own  division; 
and,  by  my  troth,  there's  one  meaning  well 
suited. 

D.Pedro.  Who    have    you    offended,    masters,    that  23 j 
you  are  thus  bound  to  your  answer  ?  this  learned 
constable    is    too    cunning    to    be    understood: 
what 's  your  offence  ? 

Bora.  Sweet  prince,  let  me  go  no  farther  to  mine  an- 
swer: do  you  hear  me,  and  let  this  count  kill 
me.  I  have  deceived  even  your  very  eyes: 
what  your  wisdoms  could  not  discover,  these 
shallow  fools  have  brought  to  light,  who,  in 
the  night,  overheard  me  confessing  to  this  man, 
how  Don  John  your  brother  incensed  me  to  240 
slander  the  Lady  Hero ;  how  you  were  brought 
into  the  orchard,  and  saw  me  court  Margaret  in 
Hero's  garments :  how  you  disgraced  her,  when 
you  should  marry  her:  my  villany  they  have 
upon  record;  which  I  had  rather  seal  with  my 
death  than  repeat  over  to  my  shame.  The  lady 
is  dead  upon  mine  and  my  master's  false  accu- 
sation;  and,  briefly,  I  desire  nothing  but  the 
reward  of  a  villain. 
D.  Pedro.  Runs  not  this   speech   Uke   iron   through  250 

your  blood  ? 
Claud.  I  have  drunk  poison  whiles  he  utter'd  it. 

105 


Act  V.  Sc.  i,  MUCH  ADO 

D,  Pedro,  But  did  my  brother  set  thee  on  to  this  ? 
Bora.  Yea,  and  paid  me  richly  for  the  practice  of  it. 
D.  Pedro.  He  is  composed  and  framed  of  treachery : 

And  fled  he  is  upon  this  villany. 
Claud.  Sweet  Hero !   now  thy  image  doth  appear 

In  the  rare  semblance  that  I  loved  it  first. 
Dog.  Come,  bring  away  the  plaintiffs :    by  this  time 

our  sexton  hath  reformed  Signior  Leonato  of  the  260 

matter:    and,  masters,  do  not  forget  to  specify, 

when  time  and  place  shall  serve,  that  I  am  an 

ass. 
Verg.  Here,    here   comes   master    Signior    Leonato, 

and  the  sexton  too. 

Re-enter  Leonato  and  Antonio,  with  the  Sexton. 

Leon.  Which  is  the  villain?   let  me  see  his  eyes. 
That,  when  I  note  another  man  like  him, 
I  may  avoid  him :   which  of  these  is  he  ? 

Bora.  If  you  would  know  your  wronger,  look  on  me. 

Leon.  Art  thou  the  slave  that  with  thy  breath  hast  kill'd 
Mine  innocent  child? 

Bora,  Yea,  even  I  alone.  270 

Leon.  No,  not  so,  villain  ;  thou  behest  thyself: 
Here  stand  a  pair  of  honourable  men  ; 
A  third  is  fled,  that  had  a  hand  in  it. 
I  thank  you,  princes,  for  my  daughter's  death : 
Record  it  with  your  high  and  worthy  deeds : 
'Twas  bravely  done,  if  you  bethink  you  of  it. 

Claud.  I  know  not  how  to  pray  your  patience ; 

Yet  I  must  speak.     Choose  your  revenge  yourself ; 
Impose  me  to  what  penance  your  invention 
Can  lay  upon  my  sin  :  yet  sinn'd  I  not  280 

But  in  mistaking. 

106 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  soul,  nor  I : 

And  yet,  to  satisfy  this  good  old  man, 

I  would  bend  under  any  heavy  weight 

That  he  '11  enjoin  me  to. 
Leon.  I  cannot  bid  you  bid  my  daughter  live ; 

That  were  impossible :   but,  I  pray  you  both, 

Possess  the  people  in  Messina  here 

How  innocent  she  died ;   and  if  your  love 

Can  labour  aught  in  sad  invention, 

Hang  her  an  epitaph  upon  her  tomb,  290 

And  sing  it  to  her  bones,  sing  it  to-night : 

To-morrow  morning  come  you  to  my  house; 

And  since  you  could  not  be  my  son-in-law, 

Be  yet  my  nephew :   my  brother  hath  a  daughter, 

Almost  the  copy  of  my  child  that 's  dead. 

And  she  alone  is  heir  to  both  of  us : 

Give  her  the  right  you  should  have  given  her  cousin. 

And  so  dies  my  revenge. 
Claud.  O  noble  sir, 

Your  over-kindness  doth  wring  tears  from  me ! 

I  do  embrace  your  offer ;  and  dispose  300 

For  henceforth  of  poor  Claudio. 
Leon.  To-morrow,  then,  I  will  expect  your  coming; 

To-night  I  take  my  leave.     This  naughty  man 

Shall  face  to  face  be  brought  to  Margaret, 

Who  I  believe  was  pack'd  in  all  this  wrong, 

Hired  to  it  by  your  brother. 
Bora.  No,  by  my  soul,  she  was  not; 

Nor  knew  not  what  she  did  when  she  spoke  to  me ; 

But  always  hath  been  just  and  virtuous 

In  any  thing  that  I  do  know  by  her. 
Dog.  Moreover,  sir,  which  indeed  is  not  under  white  310 

107 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

and  black,  this  plaintiff  here,  the  offender,  did 
call  me  ass :  I  beseech  you,  let  it  be  remembered 
in  his  punishment.  And  also,  the  watch  heard 
them  talk  of  one  Deformed :  they  say  he  wears 
a  key  in  his  ear,  and  a  lock  hanging  by  it ;  and 
borrows  money  in  God's  name,  the  which  he 
hath  used  so  long  and  never  paid,  that  now  men 
grow  hard-hearted,  and  will  lend  nothing  for 
God's  sake:  pray  you,  examine  him  upon  that 
point. 

Leon.  I  thank  thee  for  thy  care  and  honest  pains.        320 

Dog.  Your  worship  speaks  like  a  most  thankful  and 
reverend  youth ;  and  I  praise  God  for  you. 

Leon.  There  's  for  thy  pains. 

Dog.  God  save  the  foundation  ! 

Leon.  Go,  I  discharge  thee  of  thy  prisoner,  and  I 
thank  thee. 

Dog.  I  leave  an  arrant  knave  with  your  worship ; 
whicTi  I  beseech  your  worship  to  correct  your- 
self, for  the  example  of  others.  God  keep  your 
Avorship !  I  wish  your  worship  well ;  God  re-  330 
store  you  to  health !  I  humbly  give  you  leave 
to  depart ;  and  if  a  merry  meeting  may  be 
wished,  God  prohibit  it !     Come,  neighbour. 

[Exeunt  Dogberry  and  Verges. 

Leon.  Until  to-morrow  morning,  lords,  farewell. 

Ant.  Farewell,  my  lords:    we  look  for  you  to-mor- 
row. 

D.  Pedro.  We  will  not  fail. 

Claud.  To-night  I  '11  mourn  with  Hero. 

Leon.    [To  the  Watch]   Bring  you  these  fellows  on. 
We  '11  talk  with  Margaret, 
How  her  acquaintance  grew  with  this  lewd  fellow. 

[Exeunt,  severally. 

108 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Scene  II. 

Leonato's  garden. 
Enter  Benedick  and  Margaret,  meeting. 

Bene.  Pray  thee,  sweet  Mistress  Margaret,  deserve 

well  at  my  hands  by  helping  me  to  the  speech 

of  Beatrice. 
Marg.  Will  you,  then,  write  me  a  sonnet  in  praise 

of  my  beauty  ? 
Bene.  In  so  high  a  style,   Margaret,  that  no  man 

living  shall  come  over  it;    for,  in  most  comely 

truth,  thou  deservest  it. 
Marg.  To  have  no  man  come  over  me !    why,  shall 

I  always  keep  below  stairs  ?  lo 

Bene.  Thy  wit  is  as  quick  as  the  greyhound's  mouth ; 

it  catches. 
Marg.  And  yours  as  blunt  as  the  fencer's  foils,  which 

hit,  but  hurt  not. 
Bene.  A  most  manly  wit,  Margaret,  it  will  not  hurt 

a  woman :    and  so,  I  pray  thee,  call  Beatrice : 

I  give  thee  the  bucklers. 
Marg.  Give  us  the  swords ;  we  have  bucklers  of  our 

own. 
Bene.  If  you  use  them,  Margaret,  you  must  put  in     20 

the  pikes  with  a  vice;    and  they  are  dangerous 

weapons  for  maids. 
Marg.  Well,  I  will  call  Beatrice  to  you,  who  I  think 

hath  legs. 
Bene.  And  therefore  will  come.  [Exit  Margaret. 

[Sings]  The  god  of  love, 

That  sits  above, 

109. 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

And  knows  me,  and  knows  me, 
How  pitiful  I  deserve, — 

I  mean  in  singing;  but  in  loving,  Leander  the  30 
good  swimmer,  Troilus  the  first  employer  of 
pandars,  and  a  whole  bookful  of  these  quondam 
carpet-mongers,  whose  names  yet  run  smoothly 
in  the  even  road  of  a  blank  verse,  why,  they 
were  never  so  truly  turned  over  and  over  as  my 
poor  self  in  love.  Marry,  I  cannot  show  it  in 
rhyme ;  I  have  tried :  I  can  find  out  no  rhyme  to 
'  lady '    but    '  baby,'    an    innocent    rhyme ;     for 

*  scorn,'    *  horn,'   a  hard   rhyme ;    for   '  school,' 

*  fool,'  a  babbling  rhyme ;    very  ominous  end-     40 
ings;    no,    I   was  not  born   under   a   rhyming 
planet,  nor  I  cannot  woo  in  festival  terms. 

Enter  Beatrice. 

Sweet    Beatrice,    wouldst   thou    come   when    I 

called  thee? 
Beat.  Yea,  signior,  and  depart  when  you  bid  me. 
Bene.  O,  stay  but  till  then ! 
Beat.  '  Then  '  is  spoken ;    fare  you  well  now :    and 

yet,  ere  I  go,  let  me  go  with  that  I  came ;  which 

is,  with  knowing  what  hath  passed  between  you 

and  Claudio. 
Bene.  Only  foul  words ;    and  thereupon  I  will  kiss     50 

thee. 
Beat.  Foul  words  is  but  foul  wind,  and  foul  wind  is 

but   foul  breath,   and   foul  breath   is  noisome; 

therefore  I  will  depart  unkissed. 
Bene.  Thou  hast  frighted  the  word  out  of  his  right 

sense,  so  forcible  is  thy  wit.     But  I  must  tell 

thee  plainly,  Claudio  undergoes  my  challenge; 

no 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

and  either  I  must  shortly  hear  from  him,  or  I 
will  subscribe  him  a  coward.     And,  I  pray  thee 
now,  tell  me  for  which  of  my  bad  parts  didst     60 
thou  first  fall  in  love  with  me  ? 

Beat.  For  them  all  together ;  which  maintained  so 
politic  a  state  of  evil,  that  they  will  not  admit 
any  good  part  to  intermingle  with  them.  But 
for  which  of  my  good  parts  did  you  first  suffer 
love  for  me? 

Bene.  Suffer  love, — a  good  epithet!  I  do  suffer  love 
indeed,  for  I  love  thee  against  my  will. 

Beat.  In   spite  of   your  heart,   I  think;    alas,   poor 

heart!     If  you  spite  it  for  my  sake,  I  will  spite     70 
it  for  yours ;    for  I  will  never  love  that  which 
my  friend  hates. 

Bene.  Thou  and  I  are  too  wise  to  woo  peaceably. 

Beat.  It  appears  not  in  this  confession :  there  's  not 
one  wise  man  among  twenty  that  will  praise 
himself. 

Bene.  An  old,  an  old  instance,  Beatrice,  that  lived  in 
the  time  of  good  neighbours.  If  a  man  do  not 
erect  in  this  age  his  own  tomb  ere  he  dies,  he 
shall  live  no  longer  in  monument  than  the  bell 
rings  and  the  widow  weeps.  80 

Beat.  And  how  long  is  that,  think  you? 

Bene.  Question  :  why,  an  hour  in  clamour,  and  a 
quarter  in  rheum :  therefore  is  it  most  expedient 
for  the  wise,  if  Don  Worm,  his  conscience,  find 
no  impediment  to  the  contrary,  to  be  the  trumpet 
of  his  own  virtues,  as  I  am  to  myself.  So  much 
for  praising  myself,  who,  I  myself  will  bear  wit- 
ness, is  praiseworthy:  and  now  tell  me,  how 
doth  your  cousin  ? 

Ill 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Beat.  Very  ill.  qo 

Bene,  And  how  do  you  ? 
Beat.  Very  ill  too. 

Bene.  Serve  God,  love  me,  and  mend.  There  will  I 
leave  you  too,  for  here  comes  one  in  haste. 

Enter  Ursula. 

Urs.  Madam,  you  must  come  to  your  uncle.  Yon- 
der 's  old  coil  at  home :  it  is  proved  my  Lady 
Hero  hath  been  falsely  accused,  the  prince  and 
Claudio  mightily  abused ;  and  Don  John  is  the  lOO 
author  of  all,  who  is  fled  and  gone.  Will  you 
come  presently? 

Beat.  Will  you  go  hear  this  news,  signior? 

Bene.  I  will  live  in  thy  heart,  die  in  thy  lap,  and  be 
buried  in  thy  eyes";  and  moreover  I  will  go  with 
thee  to  thy  uncle's.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

A  church. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  and  three  or  four  with  tapers. 

Claud.  Is  this  the  monument  of  Leonato  ? 

A  Lord.  It  is,  my  lord. 

Claud.    [Reading  out  of  a  scroll.^ 

Done  to  death  by  slanderous  tongues 

Was  the  Hero  that  here  lies : 
Death,  in  guerdon  of  her  wrongs. 

Gives  her  fame  which  never  dies. 
So  the  life  that  died  with  shame 
Lives  in  death  with  glorious  fame. 

.    112 


I 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Hang  thou  there  upon  the  tomb, 
Praising  her  when  I  am  dumb.  lO 

Now,  music,  sound,  and  sing  your  solemn  hymn. 

Song. 

Pardon,  goddess  of  the  night. 
Those  that  slew  thy  virgin  knight; 
For  the  which,  with  songs  of  woe, 
Round  about  her  tomb  they  go. 

Midnight,  assist  our  moan  ; 

Help  us  to  sigh  and  groan. 
Heavily,  heavily : 

Graves,  yaw^n,  and  yield  your  dead. 

Till  death  be  uttered,  20 

Heavily,  heavily. 

Claud.  Now,  unto  thy  bones  good  night ! 

Yearly  will  I  do  this  rite. 
D.  Pedro.  Good  morrow,  masters ;   put  your  torches  out : 
The  wolves  have  prey'd  ;  and  look,  the  gentle  day, 
Before  the  wheels  of  Phoebus,  round  about 

Dapples  the  drowsy  east  with  spots  of  grey. 
Thanks  to  you  all,  and  leave  us :  fare  you  well. 
Claud.  Good  morrow,  masters :   each  his  several  way. 
D.  Pedro.  Come,  let  us  hence,  and  put  on  other  weeds ; 

And  then  to  Leonato's  we  will  go.  31 

Claud.  And  Hymen  now  with  luckier  issue  speed  's 
Thaa.this  for  whom  we  render'd  up  this  woe. 

[Exeunt, 


13 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

Scene  IV. 

A  room  in  Leonato's  house. 

Enter  Lconato,  Antonio,  Benedick,  Beatrice,  Margaret, 
Ursula,  Friar  Francis,  and  Hero. 

Friar.  Did  I  not  tell  you  she  was  innocent? 

Leon.  So  are  the  prince  and  Claudio,  who  accused  her 
Upon  the  error  that  you  heard  debated : 
But  Margaret  was  in  some  fault  for  this, 
Although  against  her  will,  as  it  appears 
In  the  true  course  of  all  the  question. 

Ant.  Well,  I  am  glad  that  all  things  sort  so  well. 

Bene.  And  so  am  I,  being  else  by  faith  enforced 
To  call  young  Claudio  to  a  reckoning  for  it. 

Leon.  Well,  daughter,  and  you  gentlewomen  all,  lo 

Withdraw  into  a  chamber  by  yourselves, 
And  when  I  send  for  you,  come  hither  mask'd. 

[Exeunt  Ladies. 
The  prince  and  Claudio  promised  by  this  hour 
To  visit  me.     You  know  your  office,  brother: 
You  must  be  father  to  your  brother's  daughter, 
And  give  her  to  young  Claudio. 

Ant.  Which  I  will  do  with  confirm'd  countenance. 

Bene.  Friar,  I  must  entreat  your  pains,  I  think. 

Friar.  To  do  what,  signior  ? 

Bene.  To  bind  me,  or  undo  me ;  one  of  them.  20 

Signior  Leonato,  truth  it  is,  good  signior, 
Your  niece  regards  me  with  an  eye  of  favour. 

Leon.  That  eye  my  daughter  lent  her :   'tis  most  true. 

Bene.  And  I  do  with  an  eye  of  love  requite  her. 

Leon.  The  sight  whereof  I  think  you  had  from  me,' 

From  Claudio,  and  the  prince  :  but  what 's  your  will  ? 

Bene.  Your  answer,  sir,  is  enigmatical: 

114 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

But,  for  my  will,  my  will  is,  your  good  will 

May  stand  with  ours,  this  day  to  be  conjoin'd 

In  the  state  of  honourable  marriage :  30 

In  which,  good  friar,  I  shall  desire  your  help. 

Leon.  My  heart  is  with  your  liking. 

Friar.  And  my  help. 

Here  comes  the  prince  and  Claudio. 

Enter  Don  Pedro  and  Claudio,  and  tzvo  or  three  others. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  morrow  to  this  fair  assembly. 

Leon.  Good  morrow,  prince ;   good  morrow,  Claudio : 
We  here  attend  you.     Are  you  yet  determined 
To-day  to  marry  with  my  brother's  daughter  ? 

Claud.  I  '11  hold  my  mind,  were  she  an  Ethiope. 

Leon.  Call  her  forth,  brother ;   here  's  the  friar  ready. 

[Exit  Antonio. 

D.  Pedro.  Good   morrow,    Benedick.     Why,   what 's   the 
matter.  40 

That  you  have  such  a  February  face. 
So  full  of  frost,  of  storm,  and  cloudiness? 

Claud.  I  think  he  thinks  upon  the  savage  bull. 

Tush,  fear  not,  man  ;   we  '11  tip  thy  horns  with  gold. 

And  all  Europa  shall  rejoice  at  thee; 

As  once  Europa  did  at  lusty  Jove, 

W^hen  he  would  play  the  noble  beast  In  love. 

Bene.  Bull  Jove,  sir,  had  an  amiable  low ; 

And  some  such  strange  bull  leap'd  your  father's  cow. 
And  got  a  calf  in  that  same  noble  feat  50 

Much  like  to  you,  for  you  have  just  his  bleat. 

Claud.  For  this  I  owe  you :  here  comes  other  reckonings. 

Re-enter  Antonio,  with  the  Ladies  masked. 

Which  is  the  lady  I  must  seize  upon? 
115 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

Ant.  This  same  is  she,  and  I  do  give  you  her. 

Claud.  Why,  then  she  's  mine.     Sweet,  let  me  see  your 

face. 
Leon.  No,  that  you  shall  not,  till  you  take  her  hand 

Before  this  friar,  and  swear  to  marry  her. 
Claud.  Give  me  your  hand :  before  this  holy  friar, 

I  am  your  husband,  if  you  like  of  me. 
Hero.  And  when  I  lived,  I  was  your  other  wife :  60 

[  Unmasking. 

And  when  you  loved,  you  were  my  other  husband. 
Claud.  Another  Hero ! 
Hero.  Nothing  certainer: 

One  Hero  died  defiled ;   but  I  do  live, 

And  surely  as  I  live,  I  am  a  maid. 
D.  Pedro.  The  former  Hero !     Hero  that  is  dead ! 
Leon.  Sh^  died,  my  lord,  but  whiles  her  slander  lived. 
Friar.  All  this  amazement  can  I  qualify : 

When  after  that  the  holy  rites  are  ended, 

I  '11  tell  you  largely  of  fair  Hero's  death : 

Meantime  let  wonder  seem  familiar,  70 

And  to  the  chapel  let  us  presently. 
Bene.  Soft  and  fair,  friar.     Which  is  Beatrice? 
Beat.    [Ufimasking]   I   answer  to  that  name.     What   is 

your  will? 
Bene.  Do  not  you  love  me? 

Beat.  Why,  no ;   no  more  than  reason. 

Bene.  Why,  then  your  uncle,  and  the  prince,  and  Claudio 

Have  been  deceived ;   they  swore  you  did. 
Beat.  Do  not  you  love  me? 

Bene.  Troth,  no;   no  more  than  reason. 

Beat.  Why,  then  my  cousin,  Margaret,  and  Ursula 

Are  much  deceived ;   for  they  did  swear  you  did. 
Bene,  They  swore  that  you  were  almost  sick  for  me.     80 

116 


I 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

Beat.  They  swore  that  you  were  well-nigh  dead  for  me. 

Bene.  'Tis  no  such  matter.     Then  you  do  not  love  me  ? 

Beat.  No,  truly,  but  in  friendly  recompence. 

Leon.  Come,  cousin,  I  am  sure  you  love  the  gentleman. 

Claud.  And  I  '11  be  sworn  upon  't  that  he  loves  her ; 
For  here  's  a  paper,  written  in  his  hand, 
A  halting  sonnet  of  his  own  pure  brain, 
Fashion'd  to  Beatrice. 

Hero.  And  here  's  another, 

Writ  in  my  cousin's  hand,  stolen  from  her  pocket, 
Containing  her  affection  unto  Benedick.  90 

Bene.  A  rniracle !  here  's  our  own  hands  against  our 
hearts.  Come,  I  will  have  thee ;  but,  by  this 
light,  I  take  thee  for  pity. 

Beat.  I  would  not  deny  you ;  but,  by  this  good  day, 
I  yield  upon  great  persuasion  ;  and  partly  to  save 
your  life,  for  I  was  told  you  were  in  a  consump- 
tion. 

Bene.  Peace!   I  will  stop  your  mouth.  [Kissing  her. 

D.  Pedro.  How  dost  thou.  Benedick,  the  married 
man? 

Bene.  I  '11  tell  thee  what,  prince ;    a  college  of  w^it- 

crackers  cannot  flout  me  out  of  my  humour.  100 
Dost  thou  think  I  care  for  a  satire  or  an  epi- 
gram ?  No :  if  a  man  will  be  beaten  with  brains, 
a'  shall  wear  nothing  handsome  about  him.  In 
brief,  since  I  do  purpose  to  marry,  I  will  think 
nothing  to  any  purpose  that  the  world  can  say 
against  it;  and  therefore  never  flout  at  me  for 
what  I  have  said  against  it ;  for  man  is  a  giddy 
thing,  and  this  is  my  conclusion.  For  thy  part, 
Claudio,  I  did  think  to  have  beaten  thee ;  but 
in  that  thou  art  like  to  be  my  kinsman,  live  un- 
bruised,  and  love  my  cousin.  no 

117 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

Claud.  I  had  well  hoped  thou  wouldst  have  denied 
Beatrice,  that  I  might  have  cudgelled  thee  out  of 
thy  single  life,  to  make  thee  a  double-dealer; 
which,  out  of  question,  thou  wilt  be,  if  my 
cousin  do  not  look  exceeding  narrowly  to  thee. 

Bene.  Come,  come,  we  are  friends :  let 's  have  a 
dance  ere  we  are  married,  that  we  may  lighten 
our  own  hearts,  and  our  wives'  heels. 

Leon.  We  '11  have  dancing  afterward.  120 

Bene.  First,  of  my  word ;  therefore  play,  music. 
Prince,  thou  art  sad;  get  thee  a  wife,  get  thee 
a  wife :  there  is  no  staff  more  reverend  than  one 
tipped  with  horn. 

Enter  a  Messenger, 

Mess.  My  lord,  your  brother  John  is  ta'en  in  flight, 
And  brought  with  armed  men  back  to  Messina. 

Bene.  Think  not  on  him  till  to-morrow:  I  '11  devise 
thee  brave  punishments  for  him.  Strike  up, 
pipers.  [Dance.     Exeunt. 


i 


118 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary, 


Abused,  deceived;  V.  ii.  lOO. 

Accordant,  favourable;  I.  ii.  13. 

Adam;  alluding  to  the  outlaw 
Adam  Bell,  famous  as  an 
archer  {cp.  Percy's  Rel- 
iques)  ;  I.  i.  259. 

Advertisement,  moral  instruc- 
tion ;  V.  i.  32. 

Afeard,  afraid;  II.  iii.  153. 

Affect,  love;  I.  i.  296. 

Affection,  desire;  II.  ii.  6. 

After,  afterwards ;  I.  i.  326. 

Agate;  an  allusion  to  the  little 
figures  cut  in  agates,  often 
worn  in  rings ;  a  symbol  of 
smallness;  III.  i.  65. 

Aim;  "  a.  better  at  me,"  form 
a  better  opinion  of  me;  III. 
ii.  95- 

Alliance ;  "  Good  Lord  for  al." 
i.e.  "  Heaven  send  me  a  hus- 
band," or  "  Good  Lord,  how 
many  alliances  are  form- 
ing! ";  II.  i.  321. 

Alms;  "  an  alms  "  =  a  charity ; 
II.  iii.  159. 

Ancientry,  old  fashioned  man- 
ners.; II.  i.  yj. 

Angel,  a  gold  coin  (with  pun 
upon  noble  and  angel,  both 
coins)  ;  II.  iii.  35. 

Answer;  "to  your  a.,"  i.e.  "to 
answer  for  your  conduct  " ; 
V.  i.  231. 

Antique,  antic,  buffoon;  III.  i. 
63. 


Antiquely,  fantastically;  V.  1. 
96. 

Apes;  a  reference  to  the  old 
superstition  that  old  maids 
had  to  lead  apes  in  hell;  II. 
i.  40. 

Appear  itself,  appear  as  a  real- 
ity; I.  ii.  20. 

Apprehension;  "professed 

ap.,"  i.e.  "  set  up  for  a  wit " ; 
III.  iv.  65. 

Approved,  tried,  proved;  II.  i. 
384;  IV.  i.  45. 

Argument,  subject  (for  sat- 
ire) ;  L  i.  256;  proof;  II.  iii. 
235- 

At  a  wo;-(i  =  in  a  word;  II.  i. 
114. 

Ate,  goddess  of  Fury  and  Mis- 
chief; II.  i.  257. 

Baldrick,  belt;  I.  i.  242. 

Bear  in  hand,  keep  in  (false) 
hope;  IV.  i.  303. 

Bear-ward  (Quartos,  Folios, 
read  berrord ;  other  eds., 
bear-herd),  bear-leader;  II. 
i.  40.     {Cp.  illustration.) 

Beaten;  "b.  with  brains,"  i.e. 
mocked;  V.  iv.  102. 

Bel;  "  God  Bel's  priests "  al- 
ludes to  some  representation 
in  stained  glass  of  the  story 
of  Bel  and  the  Dragon',  III. 
iii.  138. 


119 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


From  a  copper-plate  illustrating  Lon- 
don Cries  of  the  time  of  James  I. 

Below  stairs;  "  shall  I  always 
keep  below  stairs,"  an  ex- 
pression of  doubtful  mean- 
ing; probably  =  "  in  the 
servant's  room  "  ;  hence  "  re- 
main unmarried  " ;  V.  ii.   lo. 

Bent,  tension,  straining  (prop- 
erly an  expression  of  arch- 
ery) ;  II.  iii.  224;  disposi- 
tion; IV.  i.  187. 

Bills;  "  set  up  his  bills,"  i.e. 
"posted  his* challenge,  like  a 
fencing-master  " ;  I.  i.  2>7- 

Bills,  pikes  carried  by  watch- 
men; III.  iii.  43. 

Bills,  used  quibblingly  for  (i) 
bonds,  and  (2)  watchmen's 
halberds;  III.  iii.  184. 

Bird-bolt,  a  short  arrow  with  a 
broad  flat  end,  used  to  kill 
birds  without  piercing;  I.  i. 
40. 

Black,  dark-complexioned;  III. 
i.  63. 

Blazon,  explanation;  II.  i.  298. 


Block,  wooden  model  for  sha- 
ping hats;  I.  i.  75. 

Blood,  temperament;  I.  iii.  28; 
passion;  II.  i.  181. 

Bloods,  young  fellows ;  III.  iii. 
145. 

Boarded,  accosted;  II.  i.  144. 

Books;  "  not  in  your  books," 
i.e.  "  not  in  your  good 
books  " ;  I.  i.  yy. 

Borrows ;  "  b.  money  in  God's 
name,"  i.e.  "  begs  it " ;  V.  i. 

315. 
Bottle,  a  small  wooden  barrel ; 

I.  i.  257. 

Brave,  becoming,  fitting;  V.  iv. 

128. 
Break,  broach  the  subject;  I.  i. 

309,  326. 
Breathing   ■=■   breathing-space ; 

II.  i.  367. 

Bring,  accompany ;  III.  ii.  3. 

Bucklers;  "  I  give  thee  the  b.," 
i.e.  "  I  yield  thee  the  vic- 
tory" ;  V.  ii.  17. 

By,  concerning;  V.  i.  309. 

Candle-wasters,  those  who 
burn  the  midnight  oil,  book- 
worms ;  V.  i.  18. 

Canker,  canker-rose ;  I.  iii.  27. 

Capon,  used  as  a  term  of  con- 
tempt ( ?  a  pun,  according 
to  some  ^ "  a  fool's  cap 
on")  ;  V.  i.  155. 

Carduus;  "  C.  Benedictus,"  the 
holy-thistle ;  a  plant  sup- 
posed to  cure  all  diseases,  in- 
cluding the  plague;  III.  iv. 
70. 

Care  killed  a  cat,  an  old  pro- 
verbial expression;  V.  i.  132. 


120 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


Career;  "  in  the  c,"  i.e.  "  in 
tilting,  as  at  a  tournament "  ; 
V.  i.  135. 

Carpet-mongers,  carpet- 
knights;  V.  ii.  32. 

Carriage,  bearing,  deportment ; 
I.  iii.  29. 

Carry,  carry  out;  II.  iii.  215. 

Carving,  modelling,  fashion- 
ing; II.  iii.   18. 

Censured,  judged;  II.  iii.  225. 

Charge,  burden ;  I,  i.  loi ;  com- 
mission, office;  III.  iii.  7. 

Cheapen,  bid  for;  II.  iii.  2>2>- 

Cinque-pace,  a  lively  kind  of 
dance;  II.  i.  74,  79.  {Cp.  ac- 
companying  specimens.) 


stir,  "the  devil  to  pay";  V. 

ii.  98. 
Coldly,  quietly;  III.  ii.  128. 
Commodity,  any  kind  of  mer- 
chandise; III.  iii.  183. 
Company,    companionship ;    V. 

i.  191. 
Comprehended,      blunder      for 

"apprehended";  III.  v.  49. 
Conceit,  conception;  II.  i,  300. 
Conditions,    qualities ;    III.    ii. 

65. 
Confirmed,  unmoved;  V.  Iv.  17. 
Consummate,       consummated ; 

III.  ii.  I. 
Contemptible,      contemptuous; 

II.  iii.  181. 


From  Naylor's  Shakespeare  and  Music. 


Circumstances;  "  c.  shortened," 
i.e.  "  to  omit  details  " ;  III.  ii. 

lOI. 

Civet,  a  perfume  made  from 
the  civet-cat ;  III.  ii.  49. 

Civil,  used  quibblingly,  with  a 
play  upon  "  civil  "  and  "  Se- 
ville " ;  II.  i.  296. 

Claw,  flatter;  I.  iii.  18. 

Cog,  to  deceive,  especially  by 
smooth  lies ;  V.  i.  95. 

Coil;  confusion.  III.  iii.  97 ; 
old    coil  =  much    ado,    great 


Controlment,  constraint;  I.  iii. 

20. 
Conveyance;    "impossible    c," 

incredible     dexterity;     II.    i. 

246. 
Count    Comfect,    i.e.     "  Count 

Sugarplum,"    w^ith    probably 

a  play  upon  conte  or  compte, 

a  fictitious  story;  IV.  i.  316. 
Counties,  counts;  IV.  i.  315. 
County,  count;  II.  i.  189,  359. 
Courtesies,     mepe     forms     of 

courtesy ;  IV.  i.  320. 


121 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


Courtesy  =  curtsey ;  II.  i.  53. 

Cousins,  kinsmen,  enrolled 
among  the  dependants  of 
great  families,  little  more 
than  attendants ;  I.  ii.  23. 

Cross;  "  broke  c,"  i.e.  "  broke 
athwart  the  opponent's 
body "  (an  expression  taken 
from  tilting)  ;  V.  i.  139. 

Cuckold  zvith  horns;  II.  i.  43. 


From  Taylor  the  Water-Poet's  tract 
"  The  World  runnes  on  Wheeles  ..." 
(1623). 

Cunning,  clever;  V.  i.  232. 
Curst,  shrewish ;   II.  i.   20,  21, 
etc. 

Daff,  put  off;  V.  i.  78. 
Daifed,  put  aside ;  II.  iii.  170. 
Dangerous,   threatening;    V.   i. 

97- 

Deadly,  mortally;  V.  i.  177. 

Dear  happiness,  a  precious 
piece  of  good  fortune ;  I.  i. 
127. 

Decerns  =  a  blunder  for  "  con- 
cerns " ;  III.  V.  3. 

Defend,  forbid;  II.  i.  94. 

Defiled  (the  reading  of  the 
Quartos,  omitted  in  the  Fo- 
lio), defiled  by  slander;  V. 
iv.  63. 


Deprave,     practise     detraction; 

V.  i.  95. 

Difference,  used  technically; 
"  heraldic  differences  "  dis- 
tinguish the  bearers  of  the 
same  coat  armour,  and  dem- 
onstrate their  nearness  to 
the  representative  of  the 
family ;   I.  i.  6y. 

Discover,  reveal ;  III.  ii.  92. 

Discovered,  revealed;  I.  ii.  11. 

Division,  order,  arrangement ; 
V.  i.  227. 

Doctor,  a  learned  person ;  V.  i. 
204. 

Don  Worm  (Conscience  was 
formerly  represented  under 
the  symbol  of  a  worm)  ;  V. 
ii.  84. 

Dotage,  doting  love;  II.  iii.  169, 
216. 

Double-dealer,  one  who  is  un- 
faithful in  love  or  wedlock; 
V.  iv.  114. 

Doublet  and  hose;  "  in  his  d. 
and  h.,"  i.e.  "  without  his 
cloak  " ;  alluding  to  the  cus- 
tom of  taking  off  the  cloak 
before  fighting  a  duel ;  V.  i. 
202. 

Doubt,  suspect;  V.  i.  118. 

Drazv,  draw  the  bow  of  a  fiddle 
(according  to  others,  draw 
the  instruments  from  their 
cases)  ;  V.  i.  128. 

Drovier  =  drover ;  II.  i.  195. 

Dry  hand  (a  sign  of  a  cold  and 
chaste  nature)  ;  II.  i.  118. 

Dumb-show,  a  pantomime ;  II. 
iii.  218. 

Dumps,  low  spirits ;  II.  iii.  y^. 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


Earnest,  handsel,  part  pay- 
ment ;  II.  i.  39. 

Ecstasy,  madness;  .11.  iii.  152. 

Eftest,  quickest  (perhaps  a 
bhinder  for  "deftest")  ;  IV. 
ii-  35- 

Embassage,  embassy;  I.  i.  280. 

Engaged,  pledged ;  IV.  i.  2>Z^- 

Entertained,  employed;  I.  iii. 
58. 

Euro  pa,  Europe  (used  quib- 
blingly)  ;  V.  iv.  45-6. 

Even,  plain ;  IV.  i.  264. 

Every  day,  immediately,  with- 
out delay,  as  the  French  in- 
cessammcnt;  perhaps  "  E. 
to-morrow  "  =  "  every  day 
(after)    to-morrow  "  ;   III.   i. 

lOI. 

Excommunication,  blunder  for 
"  communication  "  ;  III.  v.  67. 

Exhibition;  "  e.  to  examine," 
possibly  a  blunder  for  "  ex- 
amination to  exhibit  "  ;  IV. 
ii.  5. 

Experimental;  "  e.  seal,"  i.e. 
"  the  seal  of  experience " ; 
IV.  i.  167. 

Faith,  fidelity  in  friendship ;  I. 

i.  yz)  honour,  pledge;  V.  iv. 

8. 
Fancy,  love;  III.  ii.  31. 
Fashion-monging,   foppish;   V. 

i.  94- 
Fathers    herself,    is     like    her 

father;  I.  i.  no. 
Favour,  countenance ;  II.  I.  94. 
Fence,  skill   in   fencing;    V.   i. 

75. 
Festival   terms,   not   in   every- 
day language;  V.  ii,  41. 


Fetch  me  in,  draw  me  into  a 
confession ;  I.  i.  223. 

Fine,  conclusion ;  I.  i.  245. 

Fleer,  sneer;  V.  i.  58. 

Fleet,  company;  II.  i.   143. 

Flight,  shooting  with  the  flight, 
a  kind  of  light  and  well- 
feathered  arrow ;  I.  i.  38. 

Flout;  "  f.  old  ends,"  i.e.  make 
fun  of  old  endings  of  let- 
ters; I.  i.  288. 

Flouting  Jack,  mocking  rascal ; 
I.  i.  184. 

Foining,  thrusting;  V.  i.  84. 

Frame,  order,  disposition  of 
things;  IV.  i.  129. 

Framed,  devised;  V.  i.  71. 

From,  away  from ;  "  f,  all 
fashions,"  averse  to  all  fash- 
ions, eccentric ;  III.  i.  72. 

Full;  "you  have  it  full,"  i.e. 
"  you  are  fully  answered  " ; 
I.  i.   108. 

Full,  fully;  III.  i.  45. 

Furnish,  to  dress ;  III.  i.  103. 

Girdle;  "to  turn  his  girdle,"  to 
give  a  challenge  (alluding  to 
the  practice  of  turning  the 
large  buckle  of  the  girdle  be- 
hind one  previously  to  chal- 
lenging any  one)  ;  V.  i.  142. 

God  save  the  Foundation!  (the 
customary  phrase  employed 
by  those  who  received  alms 
at  the  gates  of  religious 
houses)  ;  V.  i.  324. 

Go  in  =  join  with  you  in ;  I.  i. 
186. 

Good  den,  good  evening;  III. 
ii.  79. 


123 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


Good-year,  supposed  to  be  a 
corruption  of  goujcre,  a 
disease;  used  as  a  mild  im- 
precation; I.  iii.  I. 

Go  to  the  world,  to  marry ;  II. 
i.  321. 

Grace,  favour ;  I.  iii.  22. 

Gracious,  attractive ;  IV.  i.  108. 

Grant;  the  fairest  grant  = 
"  the  best  boon  is  that  which 
answers  the  necessities  of 
the  case";  I.  i.  317. 

Great  Cham,  the  Khan  of  Tar- 
tary;   II.  i.  271. 

Guarded,  ornamented ;  I.  i. 
286. 

Guards,  ornaments ;  I.  i.  287. 

Guerdon,  recompense;  V.  iii.  5. 

H,  i.e.  ache;  the  latter  word 
and  the  name  of  the  letter 
were  pronounced  alike ;  III. 
iv.  53- 

Haggards,  wild,  untrained 
hawks ;  III.  i.  36. 

Half-pence,  very  small  pieces; 
II.  iii.  142. 


From  an  enp^raving  by  F,  W.  Fairholt. 

Happiness;  "  outward  happi- 
ness," i.e.  "prepossessing  ap-' 
pearance  ".;  II.  iii.  184. 

Hare-tinder,  one  skilled  to  find 
the  hare ;  with  perhaps  a  play 
upon  "  hair-finder  "  ;  I.  i.  184. 

Head;  "  to  thy  head  "  =  "  to 
thy  face  " ;  V.  i.  62. 


Hearken  after,  inquire  into;  V. 
i.  214. 

"  Hcigh-ho  for  a  hundred,"  the 
title  of  an  old  ballad  still  ex- 
tant (cp.  III.  iv.  51,  52)  ;  II. 

i.  323. 

Height,  highest  degree;  IV.  i. 
301. 

High-proof,  in  a  high  degree ; 
V.  i.  123. 

Hobby-horses  (used  as  a  term 
of  contempt)  ;  III.  ii.  71. 

Hold  it  up,  continue  it ;  II.  iii. 
124. 

Holds;  "h.  you  well,"  thinks 
well  of  you ;  III.  ii.  97. 

Ho7U,  however;  III.  i.  60. 

"  Hundred  Merry  Tales,"  a 
popular  jest-book  of  the  time 
(included  in  Hazlitt's  Col- 
lection of  Shakespeare  Jest- 
Books,  1864)  ;  II.  i.  130. 

Important,   importunate ;    II.   i. 

71. 
Impose    me    to,    impose    upon 

me;  V.  i.  279. 
In,  with ;  II.  i.  65. 
Incensed,  instigated ;  V.  i.  240. 
Infinite,  infinite  stretch,  utmost 

power;  II.  iii.  105. 
In  respect  of  =  in  comparison 

with;  III.  iv.  17. 
Intend,  pretend ;  II.  ii.  34. 
In    that,    inasmuch   as ;    V.    iv. 

109. 
Invention,  mental  activity ;  IV. 

i.  195. 
Inwardness,    intimacy ;    IV.    i. 

246. 

lacks  (used  as  a  term  of  con- 
tempt) ;  V.  i.  91. 


124 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


Just,  that  is  so;  II.  i.  27. 

Kid-fox,  young  fox ;  II.  iii.  44. 
Kind,  natural ;  I.  i.  26. 
Kindly,  natural;  IV.  i.  74. 

Lapwing,  a  reference  to  the 
habit  of  the  female  green 
plover;  when  disturbed  on 
its  nest  it  runs  close  to  the 
ground  a  short  distance 
without  uttering  any  cry, 
while  the  male  bird  keeps  fly- 
ing round  the  intruder,  ut- 
tering its  peculiar  cry  very 
rapidly  and  loudly,  and  try- 
ing, by  every  means,  to  draw 
him  in  a  contrary  direction 
from  the  nest;  III.  i.  24. 

Large,  "large  jests,"  broad 
jests;  II.  iii.  198. 

Large,  free,  licentious ;  IV.  i. 
52. 

Leap'd,  covered ;  V.  iv.  49. 

Learn,  teach ;  IV.  i.  30. 

Lewd,  depraved;   V.  i.  339. 

Liberal,  licentious ;  IV.  i.  92. 

Light  0'  Love,  a  popular  old 
dance  tune,  often  referred 
to;  III.  iv.  42. 

Limed,  snared  as  with  bird- 
lime; III.  i.  104. 

Liver  (used  as  "  heart "  for 
the  seat  of  love)  ;  IV.  i.  232. 

Lock,  a  love-lock;  III.  iii.  176. 

Lock;  "  he  wears  a  key  in  his 
ear,  and  a  1.  hanging  by  it," 
a  quibbling  allusion  to  the 
"  love-locks "  worn  at  the 
time,  and  perhaps  to  the 
fashion  of  wearing  roses  in 
the  ears ;  V.  i.  316. 


From  a  portrait  of  Christian 
IV.  of  Denmark. 

Lodge,  the  hut  occupied  by 
the  watchman  in  a  rabbit- 
warren  ;  II.  i.  216. 

Low,  short;  III.  i.  65. 

Lustihood,  vigour;  V.  i.  76. 

Luxurious,  lustful;  IV.  i.  41. 

> 

March-chick,  chicken  hatched 
in  March,  denoting  precoc- 
ity; I.  iii.  56. 

Marl,  a  kind  of  clay ;  II.  i.  63. 

Match,  mate,  marry;  II.  i.  64. 

Matter,  sense,  seriousness ;  II. 
i.  335- 

Matter;  "  no  such  matter," 
nothing  of  the  kind;  II.  iii. 
217. 

May,  can;  IV.  i.  265. 

Measure,  used  quibblingly  in 
double  sense  in  connection 
with  dance ;  II.  i.  y2. 

Medicinable,  medicinal ;   II.   ii. 

5. 
Meet  with,  even  with ;  I.  i.  45. 


125 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


Merely,  entirely;  II.  iii.  218. 
Metal,  material ;  II.  i.  59. 
Misgovernment,      misconduct ; 

IV.  i.  99. 

Misprising,    despising;    III.    i. 

52. 
Misprision,     mistake;     IV.     i. 

186. 
Misuse,  deceive;  II.  ii.  28. 
Misused,  abused ;  II.  i.  240. 
Moe,  more ;  II.  iii.  72. 
Monument;      "  in      m."  =  "  in 

men's  memory  "  ;  V.  ii.  79. 
Moral,    hidden    meaning,    like 

the  moral  of  a  fable;  III.  iv. 

75. 
Moral,    ready   to   moralise ;    V. 

i.  30. 
Mortifying,  killing;  I.  iii.  12. 
Mountain,  a  great  heap,  a  huge 

amount;  II.  i.  371. 
Mountanta,     i.e.     montanta,     a 

term  in  fencing,  "  an  upright 

blow   or  thrust,"   applied  by 

Beatrice  to  Benedick;  I.  i.  30. 

Near,  dear  to;  II.  i.  163. 

Neighbours;  the  time  of 
"  good  n.,"  i.e.  "  when  men 
were  not  envious  of  one  an- 
other " ;  V.  ii.  yy. 

New-trothed,  newly  betrothed; 
III.  i.  38. 

Night-gown,  dressing  gown ; 
III.  iv.  17. 

Night-raven,  the  ,  owl  or  the 
night-heron ;  II.  iii.  84. 

Noncome;  "to  a  n.,"  probably 
=:  to  be  non  compos  mentis ; 
III.  v.  65. 


Nothing,  pronounced  much  in 
the  same  way  as  "  noting  "  ; 
hence  the  pun  here  on  "  no- 
thing "  and  "  no-ting  " ;  II. 
iii.  59- 

Nuptial,  marriage  ceremony; 
IV.  i.  68. 

Of,  by;  I.  i.  124. 

Off,  away  from;  III.  v.  9. 

On,  of;  IV.  i.  138. 

Only,  alone,  of  all  others ;  I. 
iii.  40. 

Opinioncd,  a  blunder  for  "  pin- 
ioned " ;  IV.  ii.  66. 

Orchard,  garden ;  I.  ii.  9. 

Orthography  =  orthographer, 
one  who  uses  fine  words;  II. 
iii.  21. 

Out-facing,  facing  the  matter 
out  with  looks ;  V.  i.  94. 

Over-home,  overcome ;  II.  iii. 
152. 

Pack'd,  implicated;  V.  i.  305. 

Palabras,  i.e.  pocas  palabras 
(Spanish)  =  "  few  words  "  ; 
III.  V.  18. 

Partridge  wing  (formerly  con- 
sidered the  most  delicate 
part  of  the  bird)  ;  II.  i.  150. 

Passing,  exceedingly;  II.  i.  81. 

Passion,  emotion ;  V.  i.  22,. 

Pent-house,  a  porch  or  shed 
with  sloping  roof;  III.  iii. 
107. 

Philemon's  roof;  an  allusion 
to  the  story  of  the  peasant 
Philemon  and  his  Baucis, 
who  received  Jupiter  into 
their  thatched  cottage;  II.  i. 
96. 


126 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


From  an  engraving  of  an  old  timber- 
house  in  the  market  place  at  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon. 

Piety,   Dogberry's   blunder   for 

"  impiety  ' ;  IV.  ii.  78. 
Pigmies,     a     race     of     dwarfs 

fabled      to      dwell      beyond 


^t0nv^ttj8f 


U^WSS 


This  curious  fanciful  representation  is 
reproduced  from  MS.  Bibl.  Reg.  17  c  38. 


Mount  Imaus  in  India ;  II.  i. 
272. 

Pikes,  central  spikes  screwed 
into  the  bucklers  or  shields, 
of  the  i6th  century;  V.  ii.  21. 

Pitch;  "they  that  touch  pitch," 
etc.,  a  popular  proverb  de- 
rived from  Ecclesiasticus 
xiii.  I ;  III.  iii.  60. 

Pleached,  interwoven ;  III.  i.  7. 

Pleasant,  merry;  I.  i.  36. 

Pluck  up,  rouse  thyself;  V.  i. 
205. 

Possess,  inform ;  V.  i.  287. 

Possessed,   influenced;    III.   iii. 

159- 
Practice,  contrivance,  plotting; 

IV.  i.  189. 

Preceptial;  "  p.  medicine,"  i.e. 
"  the  medicine  of  precepts  "  ; 

V.  i.  24. 

Present,  represent;  III.  iii.  78. 

Presently,  immediately;  II.  ii. 
56. 

Press;  an  allusion  to  the  pun- 
ishment known  as  the  peine 
forte  et  dure,  which  consist- 
ed of  piling  heavy  weights 
on  the  body;  III.  i.  76. 

Prester  John,  Presbyter  John, 
a  mythical  Christian  King  of 


^'i/tZL. 


From  a  MS.  (Bibl.  Reg.  17  c.  38  of 
Mandeville  of  the  XVth  Cent.) 


127 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


India,  of  whose  wonders 
Mandeville  tells  us  much ;  II. 
i.  270. 

Prized,  estimated;  III.  i.  90. 

Prohibit  (used  amiss  by  Dog- 
berry) ;  V.  i.  22>z- 

Prolong'd,  deferred ;  IV.  i.  255 

Proof ;  "  your  own  p.,"  i.e.  "  in 
your  own  trial  of  her";  IV 

i-  45. 
Proper,  handsome ;  II.  iii.  183 
Properest,    handsomest;    V.    i 

173- 
Propose,    conversation ;    III.    i 

12. 
Proposing,   conversing ;    III.   i 

3. 
Push;   "made  a  push  at,"   i.e 
"  defied  "  ;  V.  i.  38. 

Qualify,  moderate ;  V.  iv.  67. 

Queasy,  squeamish ;  11.  i.  389. 

Question;  "  in  q.,"  i.e.  "  under 
trial,  subject  to  judicial  ex- 
amination " ;   III.  iii.   185. 

Question  =  that 's  the  question  ; 
V.  ii.  82. 

Question,  investigation ;  V.  iv. 
6. 

Quips,  sarcasms;  II.  iii.  241. 

Quirks,  shallow  conceits;  II. 
iii.  237. 

Quit,  requite;  IV.  i.  201. 

Rabato,  collar,  ruff;  III.  iv.  6. 
Rack,  stretch,  exaggerate;  IV. 

i.  221. 
Reasons     (punning,    according 

to  some  commentators,  upon 

"  reasons  "    and    "  raisins  ")  ; 

V.  i.  209. 


From  a  Monument  in  Ashford  Church, 
Kent. 


Recheat,  a  term  of  the  chase; 

the  call  sounded  to  bring  the 

dogs  back;  I.  i.  240. 
Reclusive,  secluded;  IV.  i.  243. 
Redemption,     a     blunder     for 

"perdition";   IV.  ii.   56. 
Reechy,   reeky,    dirty ;    III.   iii. 

137. 
Reformed,  Dogberry's  blunder 

for  "  informed  "  ;  V.  i.  260. 
Remorse,    compassion ;    IV.    i. 

212. 
Render,  give  back;  IV.  i.  29. 
Reportingly,    on    mere    report; 

III.  i.  116. 
Reprove,  disprove;  II.  iii.  233. 
Reverence,  privilege  of  age;  V. 

i.  64. 
Rheum,  tears;  V.  ii.  83. 
Right;  "  do  me  right,"  give  me 

satisfaction;  V.  i.  147. 

Sad,   serious;   I.   i.    183;   I.   iii. 

60;  II.  i.  348-9. 
Sadly,  seriously;  II.  iii.  221. 


128 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


Salved,  palliated;  I.  i.  315. 

Saturn;  "  born  under  S.,"  i.e. 
"  of  a  saturnine  or  phleg- 
matic disposition";  I.  iii.  11. 

Scab,  used  quibblingly  for  (i) 
sore,  and  (2)  a  low  fellow; 
III.  iii.  104. 

Scambling,  scrambling;  V.  i. 
94. 

Seeming,  hypocrisy;  IV.  i.  56. 

Self-endeared,  self-loving;  III. 
i.  56. 

Sentences,  sententious  sayings ; 
XL  iii.  241. 

Seven-night ;  "a  just  s.,"  i.e. 
"  exactly  a  week  " ;  II.  i.  364. 

Shape  of  two  countries;  III.  ii. 
34- 


"  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  naked  I 
stand  here, 
Musing  in  my  mynde  what  rayment  I 

shall  were ; 
For  now  I  will  were  this,  and  now  I 

will  were  that. 
Now  I  will  were  I  cannot  tell  what." 
(From  Borde's  '  Boke  of  the  Intro- 
duction of  Knowledge.') 

Shaven  Hercules,  probably  al- 
ludes to  Hercules,  shaved  to 
look  like  a  woman,  while  in 
the  service  of  Omphale;  III. 
iii.  139. 


Shrewd,  shrewish ;  II.  i.  19. 

Side,  long;  III.  iv.  19. 

Sigh;  "  sigh  away  Sundays," 
possibly  an  allusion  to  the 
Puritans'  Sabbath ;  according 
to  others  the  phrase  signifies 
that  a  man  has  no  rest  at  all ; 
I.  i.  202. 

Slanders,  misapplied  by  Dog- 
berry for  "  slanderers  "  ;  V. 
i.  219. 

Slops,  large  loose  breeches ; 
III.  ii.  36. 

Smirched,  soiled;  III.  iii.  139. 

Smoking,    fumigating;     I.    iii. 

59. 

So,  if;  II.  i.  88. 

Soft  you,  hold,  stop ;  V.  i.  207. 

Sort,  rank;  I.  i.  7;  I.  i.  33. 

Sort,  turn  out ;  V.  iv.  7. 

Speed 's,  i.e.  speed  us ;  V.  iii. 
32. 

Spell;  "  s.  him  backward,"  mis- 
construe him;  III.  i.  61. 

Squarer,  quarreller;  I.  i.  80. 

Staff,  lance ;  V.  i.  138. 

Stale,  harlot ;  IV.  i.  65. 

Stalk,  walk,  like  a  fowler  be- 
hind a  stalking-horse;  II.  iii. 

95- 
Start-up,  up-start ;  I.  iii.  66. 
Stomach,  appetite;  I.  iii.  15. 
Stops,     the    divisions    on    the 

finger-board   of   a   lute;    III. 

ii-  59- 
Strain,    family,    lineage ;    II.    i. 

384. 
Strain;  "strain  for  strain,"  i.e. 

feeling  for  feeling;  V.  i.  12. 
Style   (used  with  a  quibble  on 

"stile")  ;  V.  ii.  6. 
Success,  the  issue;  IV.  i.  235. 


129 


Glosfisary 


MUCH  ADO 


Sufferance,  suffering;  V.  I.  38. 

SufUgance,  blunder  for  "suffi- 
cient"; III.  V.  55. 

Sun-hurnt,  homely,  ill-fa- 
voured; II.  i.  322. 

Sure,  faithful;  I.  iii.  69. 

Suspect,  misapplied  for  "  re- 
spect"; IV.  ii.  7Z,  74- 

Suspicion  (i.e.  suspicion  of 
having  horns  under  it)  ;  I.  i. 
199. 

Swift,  ready;  III.  i.  89. 

Taken  up,  used  quibblingly  for 
(i)  arrested,  and  (2)  ob- 
tained on  credit ;  III.  iii.  184. 

Tale;  "both  in  a  tale,"  i.e. 
"  they  both  say  the  same  "  ; 
IV.  ii.  30. 

Tax,  to  censure ;  I.  i.  44. 

Teach,  to  be  taught;  I.  i.  291. 

Temper,  compound,  mix ;  II.  ii. 
21. 

Temporize,  make  terms ;  I.  i. 
274. 

Terminations,  terms;  II.  i.  250. 

Thick-pleached,  thickly  inter- 
woven; I.  ii.  9. 

Tickling  (trisyllabic)  ;  III.  i. 
80. 

Tire,  head-dress;  III.  iv.  12. 

To,  with ;  II.  i.  237. 

Tongues;  "he  hath  the  t.,"  i.e. 
"he  knows  foreign  lan- 
guages"; V.  i.  166. 

To-night,  last  night ;  III.  v.  33. 

Tooth-picker  —  tooth-pick ;  II. 
i.  268. 

Top;  "by  the  top  "  =  by  the 
forelock;  I.  ii.  14. 

Trace,  walk ;  III.  i.  16. 


Trans-shape,   caricature ;   V.    i. 

171. 
Trial;  "to  trial  of  a  man,"  i.e. 

"  to   combat,   man  to   man  "  ; 

V.  i.  66. 
Trow  ^=  trow  ye,  i.e.  think  ye? 

III.  iv.  56. 
Truth,  genuine  proof ;  II.  ii.  48. 
Tuition,  guardianship ;  I.  i.  281. 
Turned       Turk   =   completely 

changed  for  the  worse ;  III. 

iv.  54-     _ 
Tyrant,    pitiless    censor;    I.    i. 

168. 

Unconfirmed,  inexperienced; 
III.  iii.  119. 

Underborne,  trimmed,  faced; 
III.  iv.  20. 

Undergoes,  is  subject  to;  V.  ii. 
57- 

Unhappiness,  wanton  or  mis- 
chievous tricks;  II.  i.  351. 

Untowardly,  unluckily;  III.  ii. 
130. 

Up  and  down,  exactly;  II.  i. 
118. 

Upon,  in  consequence  of;  IV.  i. 
224. 

Use,  usury,  interest;  II.  i.  281. 

Used;  "  hath  u.,"  i.e.  has  made 
a  practice  of;  used  equivo- 
cally; V.  i.  316. 

Usurer's  chain,  an  allusion  to 
the  gold  chains  worn  by  the 
more  wealthy  merchants, 
many  of  whom  were  bank- 
ers; II.  i.  190. 

Vagrom,  Dogberry's  blunder 
for  vagrant;  III.  iii.  26. 


1.30 


ABOUT  NOTHING 

Venice,  the  city  of  pleasure- 
seekers,  frequently  alluded  to 
as  such  by  Elizabethan  wri- 
ters; I.  i.  272. 

Weak,  foolish;  III.  i.  54. 

Weeds,  garments,  dress;  V.  iii. 
30. 

Windy;  "on  the  w.  side  of 
care,"  i.e.  "  to  windward  of 
care "  (the  metaphor  being 
from  two  sailing  boats  ra- 
cing) ;  II.  i.  318. 


Glossary 

Wish,  desire;  III.  i.  42. 

Wit,  wisdom;  II.  iii.  187. 

With  =  by;  II.  i.  61;  V.  iv. 
126. 

Wits;  "  five  wits,"  i.e.  "  the  five 
intellectual  powers — common 
wit,  imagination,  fantasy,  es- 
timation, memory  "  ;   I.  i.  64. 

Woe,  woful  tribute;  V.  iii.  2^. 

Woo,  press;  II.  iii.  50. 

Woodcock,  fool ;  V.  i.  157. 

Woollen,  blankets;  II.  i.  31. 

Wring,  writhe;  V.  i.  28. 


131 


MUCH  ADO 


Critical  Notes. 

BY  ISRAEL  GOLLANCZ. 

I.  i.  216.  The  English  story  of  '  Mr.  Fox '  alluded  to  here  was 
first  written  down  by  Blakeway,  who  contributed  to  Malone's 
Variorum  Edition  a  version  of  the  tale  he  had  heard  from  an  old 
aunt  {cp.  Jacobs'  English  Fairy  Tales). 

II.  i.  80.  'sink  a-pace'  etc.;  Camb.  Ed.  following  Q.  'sink  into 
his  grave' ',  Folio  i,  Folio  2,  'sinkes';  Capell,  ' sink-a-pace' ;  so 
MS.  corrector  of  Collier's  Folio. 

II.  i.  215.  'as  melancholy  as  a  lodge  in  a  zvarrcn';  the  phrase 
suggests  "  The  daughter  of  Zion  is  left  as  a  cottage  in  a  vineyard, 
as  a  lodge  in  a  garden  of  cucumbers,"  Isaiah  i.  8. 

II.  i.  246.  '  i7npossible'  Theobald,  '  impassable.' 

II.  ii.  44.  Some  editors  substitute  '  Borachio '  for  '  Claudio  *  in 
order  to  relieve  the  difficulty  here,  but,  as  the  Cambridge  editors 
point  out,  "  Hero's  supposed  offence  would  not  be  enhanced  by 
calling  one  lover  by  the  name  of  the  other,  .  .  .  Perhaps  the 
author  meant  that  Borachio  should  persuade  her  to  play,  as  chil- 
dren say,  at  being  Hero  and  Claudio." 

II.  iii.  38.  The  Folio  reads: — 'Enter  Prince,  Leonato,  Claudio, 
and  Jack  Wilson ' :  the  latter  was  probably  the  singer  who  took 
the  part  of  Balthasar. 

III.  ii.  27.  '  Where  is  hut  a  humour  or  a  worm' ;  toothache  was 
popularly  supposed  to  be  caused  by  a  worm  at  the  root  of  the 
tooth. 

III.  iii.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  '  Dogberry,'  the  vulgar  name 
of  the  dogzvood,  was  used  as  a  surname  as  far  back  as  the  time  of 
Richard  II.,  and  that  '  Verges,'  a  provincial  corruption  for  ver- 
juice, occurs  in  an  ancient  MS.  (MS.  Ashmol.  38)  as  the  name  of 
a  usurer,  whose  epitaph  is  given  : — 

"  Here  lies  father  Varges 
Who  died  to  save  charges." 

III.  iii.  89.  'Keep  your  fellows'  counsels  and  your  own.'  It  has 
been  pointed  out  by  students  of  Shakespeare's  legal  acquirements 

132 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Notes 


that  these  words   still   form   part  of  the  oath   administered  by- 
judges'  m.arshal  to  the  grand  jurymen  at  the  present  day. 

III.  V.  i8.  '  Comparisons  are  odorous.'  An  elaborate  extension 
of  this  joke  occurs  in  the  old  play  of  Sir  Gyles  Goosecappe  (c. 
1603). 

III.  V.  2>7-  '  When  the  age  is  in,  the  wit  is  out'  \  a  blunder  for 
the  old  proverbial  expression,  *  when  the  ale  is  in,  wit  is  out ' — 

"  When  ale  is  in,  wit  is  out, 
When  ale  is  out,  wit  is  in, 
The  first  thou  showest  out  of  doubt, 
The  last  in  thee  hath  not  been." 

Heywood's  Epigrams  and  Proverbs. 

IV.  li.  Nearly  all  the  speeches  of  Dogberry  throughout  the 
Scene  are  given  to  the  famous  comedian  '  Kemp,'  those  of  Verges 
to  '  Cowley.'  William  Kemp  and  Richard  Cowley  are  among  the 
'  principall  actors  '  enumerated  in  the  First  Folio.  The  retention 
of  the  names  of  the  actors  "  supplies  a  measure  of  the  editorial 
care  to  which  the  several  Folios  were  submitted."  Dogberry's 
speech  is  assigned  to  '  Andrew, '  probably  a  familiar  appellation  of 
Kemp,  who,  according  to  the  Cambridge  Edition,  often  played  the 
part  of  '  Merry  Andrew.' 

IV.  ii.  5.  '  we  have  the  exhibition  to  examine.'    Verges'  blunder 
is  not  quite  clear :  possibly  '  exhibition  ' 
is  used  in  the  sense  of  '  allowance '  or 
*  permission,'     otherwise     he     perhaps 
means  '  examination  to  exhibit.' 

V.  i.  16.  '  Bid  sorrow  wag,  cry 
"hem"!  The  Quarto  and  the 
first  and  second  Folios  read,  'And 
sorrow  wagge,  crie  hem ' ;  Folio  3, 
'And  hallow,  wag,  cry  hem ' ;  Folio 
4,  'And  hollow  wag,  cry  hem.'  Many 
emendations  have  been  suggested.  Ca- 
pell's  '  bid  sorrow  wag,'  is  now  gener- 
ally adopted.  Johnson  proposed  '  Cry, 
sorrow  wag!  and  hem'  ('  Sorrow 
wag,'  like  '  care  away,'  was  probably  a 
proverbial  phrase.)  One  other  sugges- 
tion is  perhaps  noteworthy: — 'And, 
sorry  wag,  cry  "  hem."  ' 


From  a  MS.  PontiHcale  ad  usum  Ec- 
clesiae  Romanse  et  Anglicanae. 
XlVth  Cent. 


133 


Notes  MUCH  ADO 

V.  i.  315.  '  key  in  his  ear,  and  a  lock  hanging  by  it.' 

V.  i.  318.  L&nd,  for  God's  sake. 

V.  iii.  21.  'Heavily,  heavily';  so  reads  the  Quarto;  the 
Folios,  ' Heavenly,  heavenly'  adopted  by  many  editors.  The  same 
error,  however,  of  '  heavenly '  for  '  heavily '  occurs  in  the  Folio 
reading  of  Hamlet,  II.  ii.  309. 

"  The  slayers  of  the  virgin  knight  are  performing  a  solemn 
requiem  on  the  body  of  Hero,  and  they  invoke  Midnight  and  the 
shades  of  the  dead  to  assist,  until  her  death  be  uttered,  that  is, 
proclaimed,  published,  sorrowfully,  sorrowfully"  (Halliwell). 

V.  iv.  123.  ''  there  is  no  staff  more  revered  than  one  tipped  with 
horn ' ;  i.e.  having  a  tip  of  horn,  a  horn  handle ;  there  is,  of 
course,  a  quibbling  allusion  in  the  words  to  the  favourite  Eliza- 
bethan joke. 


134 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Explanatory  Notes. 

The  Explanatory  Notes  in  this  edition  have  been  specially  selected  and 
adapted,  with  emendations  after  the  latest  and  best  authorities,  from  the 
most  eminent  Shakespearian  scholars  and  commentators,  including  Johnson, 
Malone,  Steevens,  Singer,  Dyce,  Hudson,  White,  Furness,  Dowden,  and 
others.  This  method,  here  introduced  for  the  first  time,  provides  the  best 
annotation  of  Shakespeare  ever  embraced  in  a  single  edition. 


ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

23.  a  badge  of  bitterness: — In  Chapman's  version  of  the  loth 
Odyssey,  a  somewhat  similar  expression  occurs :  "  Our  eyes  wore 
the  same  wet  badge  of  weak  humanity."  This  is  an  idea  which 
Shakespeare  apparently  delighted  to  introduce.  It  occurs  again 
in  Macbeth,  I.  iv. :  "  My  plenteous  joys,  wanton  in  fulness,  seek 
to  hide  themselves  in  drops  of  sorrow." 

54,  55.  stuffed  with  all  honourable  virtues: — Mede  in  his  Dis- 
courses on  Scripture,  speaking  of  Adam,  says,  "He  whom  God 
had  stuffed  with  so  many  excellent  qualities."  Beatrice  starts  an 
idea  at  the  words  stuffed  man,  and  prudently  checks  herself  in 
the  pursuit  of  it.  A  stuffed  man  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the 
many  cant  phrases  for  a  cuckold. 

184,  185.  to  tell  us  Cupid  is  a  good  hare-finder,  etc. : — Do  you 
scoff  and  mock  in  telling  us  that  Cupid,  who  is  blind,  is  a  good 
hare-finder;  and  that  Vulcan,  a  blacksmith,  is  a  good  carpenter? 

216-218.  Like  the  old  tale,  etc. : — In  illustration  of  this  pas- 
sage. Mr.  Blakeway  has  given  his  recollections  of  an  old  tale, 
which  he  thinks  may  be  the  one  alluded  to,  very  like  some  that 
we  in  our  childhood  have  often  lain  awake  to  hear  and  been 
kept  awake  with  thinking  of  after  the  hearing:  "Once  upon 
a  time  there  lived  a  Mr.  Fox,  a  bachelor,  who  made  it  his  busi- 
ness to  decoy  or  force  young  women  to  his  house,  that  he 
might  have  their  skeletons  to  adorn  his  chambers  with.     Near 

^35 


Notes  MUCH  ADO 

by  dwelt  a  family,  the  lady  Mary  and  her  two  brothers,  whom 
Mr.  Fox  often  visited,  they,  especially  the  lady,  being  much 
pleased  with  his  company.  One  day,  the  lady,  being  left  alone 
and  having  nothing  else  to  do,  thought  to  amuse  herself  by  calling 
upon  Mr.  Fox,  as  he  had  often  invited  her  to  do.  Knocking  some 
time,  but  finding  no  one  at  home,  she  at  length  opened  and  went 
in.  Over  the  portal  was  written,  Be  bold,  be  bold,  but  not  too 
bold.  Going  forward,  she  saw  the  same  over  the  stairway,  and 
again  over  the  door  of  the  chamber  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
Opening  this  door,  she  saw  at  once  what  sort  of  work  was  carried 
on  there.  Retreating  hastily,  she  saw  out  of  the  window  Mr. 
Fox  coming,  holding  a  sword  in  one  hand,  and  with  the  other 
dragging  a  young  lady  by  the  hair.  She  had  just  time  to  hide 
herself  under  the  stairs  before  he  entered.  As  he  was  going  up 
stairs  the  young  lady  caught  hold  of  the  banister  with  her  hand, 
whereon  was  a  rich  bracelet ;  he  then  cut  off  her  hand,  and  it  fell, 
bracelet  and  all,  into  Mary's  lap.  She  took  it,  and,  as  soon  as  she 
could,  hastened  home.  A  few  days  after,  Mr.  Fox  came  to  dine 
with  her  and  her  brothers.  As  they  were  entertaining  each  other 
with  stories,  she  said  she  would  tell  them  a  strange  dream  she 
had  lately  had.  She  said,  I  dreamed,  Mr.  Fox,  that  as  you  had 
often  invited  me  to  your  house,  I  went  there  one  morning.  When 
I  came,  I  knocked,  but  no  one  answered;  when  I  opened  the  door, 
over  the  hall  was  written.  Be  bold,  be  bold,  but  not  too  bold.  But, 
said  she,  turning  to  Mr.  Fox  and  smiling,  //  is  not  so,  nor  it  was 
not  so.  Then  she  went  on  with  the  story,  repeating  this  at  every 
turn,  till  she  came  to  the  room  full  of  dead  bodies,  when  Mr.  Fox 
took  up  the  burden  of  the  tale,  saying.  It  is  not  so,  nor  it  was  not 
so,  and  God  forbid  it  should  be  so;  which  he  kept  repeating  at 
every  turn  of  the  dreadful  story,  till  she  came  to  his  cutting  off 
the  lady's  hand ;  then,  upon  his  saying  the,  same  words,  she  re- 
plied. But  it  is  so,  and  it  was  so,  and  here  the  hand  I  have  to  show, 
at  the  same  time  producing  the  hand  and  bracelet  from  her  lap ; 
whereupon  the  guests  drew  their  swords,  and  cut  Mr.  Fox  into  a 
thousand  pieces." 

236,  237.  but  in  the  force  of  his  will: — Alluding  to  the  definition 
of  a  heretic  in  the  schools. 

257.  hang  me  in  a  bottle  like  a  cat: — It  seems  to  have  been  one 
of  the  inhuman  sports  of  the  time  to  enclose  a  cat  in  a  wooden 
tub  or  bottle  suspended  aloft  to  be  shot  at. 

261.  This  line  is  from  Kyd's  Spanish  Tragedy,  1599. 

317.  The  fairest  grant  is   the   necessity : — Hayley,   with  great 

136 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Notes 

acuteness,  proposed  to  read,  "The  fairest  grant  is  to  necessity"; 
i.e.,  necessitas  quod  cogit  defendit.  The  meaning  may,  however, 
be,  "  The  fairest  or  most  equitable  concession  is  that  which  is 
needful  only." 

Scene  III. 

12,  13.  /  cannot  hide  zvhat  I  am  : — This  is  one  of  Shakespeare's 
natural  touches.  An  envious  and  unsocial  mind,  too  proud  to 
give  pleasure  and  too  sullen  to  receive  it,  often  endeavours  to  hide 
its  malignity  from  the  world  and  from  itself,  under  the  plainness 
of  simple  honesty  or  the  dignity  of  haughty  independence. 

18.  claw  no  man  in  his  humour : — So  in  Howell's  Letters : 
''  Here  it  is  not  the  style  to  claw  and  compliment  with  the  King." 
Claw-back  occurs  in  the  same  sense  both  as  a  noun  and  a  verb. 
Thus  Camden  says  of  Queen  Elizabeth:  "When  she  often  used 
the  saying,  That  most  men  neglected  the  setting  sun,  these  claw- 
backs  ceased  not  to  beat  into  her  ears — Who  will  neglect  the 
wholesome  beams  of  the  clear  sunshine,  to  behold  the  pitiful 
sparkling  of  the  smaller  stars?  " 

40.  That  is,  "  for  I  make  nothing  else  my  counsellor." 

59.  smoking  a  musty  room: — The  neglect  of  cleanliness  among 
our  ancestors  rendered  such  precautions  too  often  necessary.  In 
Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy:  "The  smoke  of  juniper  is  in 
great  request  with  u;j  at  Oxford  to  sweeten  our  chambers." 


ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

94,  95.  God  defend  the  lute,  etc. : — That  is,  God  forbid  that  your 
face  should  be  like  your  mask. 

130.  'Hundred  Merry  Tales': — This  was  the  term  for  a  jest- 
book  in  Shakespeare's  time,  from  a  popular  collection  of  that 
name,  about  which  the  commentators  were  much  puzzled,  until  a 
large  fragment  was  discovered  in  181 5,  by  the  Rev.  J.  Cony- 
beare.  Professor  of  Poetry  in  Oxford.  It  was  printed  by  Rastell, 
and  therefore  must  have  been  published  previous  to  1533.  An- 
other collection  of  the  same  kind,  called  Tales  and  Quicke  An- 
swer es,  printed  by  Berthelette,  and  of  nearly  equal  antiquity,  was 

^Z7 


Notes  MUCH  ADO 

also  reprinted  at  the  same  time;  and  it  is  remarkable  that  this 
collection  is  cited  by  Sir  John  Harrington  under  the  title  of  The 
Hundred  Merry  Tales.  It  continued  for  a  long  period  to  be  the 
popular  name  for  collections  of  this  sort. 

209,  210.  puts  the  -tvorld,  etc. : — That  is,  who  takes  upon  herself 
to  personate  the  world,  and  so  fancies  that  the  world  thinks  just 
as  she  does.  In  nearly  all  modern  editions,  the  base,  though  hitter, 
disposition  (lines  208,  209)  is  changed  to  the  base,  the  bitter  dis- 
position ;  probably  because  the  editors  could  not  discover  the 
relation  between  base  and  bitter,  nor  divine  that  though  here 
means  since  or  because,  as  often  in  Shakespeare. 

215,  216.  a  lodge  in  a  warren : — A  similar  image  of  loneliness 
occurs  in  Measure  for  Measure :  "  At  the  moated  grange  resides 
this  dejected  Mariana." 

257,  258.  Ate  in  good  apparel: — Upon  this  passage  Warburton 
remarks,  and  Collier  endorses  him,  that  "  the  ancient  poets  and 
painters  represent  the  Furies  in  rags."  Ate,  however,  was  not  a 
Fury,  but  the  daughter  of  Jupiter,  and  goddess  of  mischief  and 
discord. 

269,  270.  bring  you,  etc. : — How  difficult  this  had  been,  may  be 
guessed  from  Butler's  account  of  that  distinguished  John : — 

"While  like  the  mighty  Prester  John, 
Whose  person  none  dares  look  upon, 
But  is  preserv'd  in  close  disguise 
From  being  made  cheap  to  vulgar  eyes." 


Scene  II. 

44.  term  me  Claud io : — So  in  all  the  old  copies.  Theobald 
thought  it  should  read  BoracJiio  instead  of  Claudio ;  whereas  the 
expression,  term  me,  infers  that  a  false  name  is  to  be  agreed  upon 
between  the  speaker  and  Margaret.  Both  Claudio  and  the  Prince 
might  well  be  persuaded  that  Hero  received  a  clandestine  lover, 
whom  she  called  Claudio,  in  order  to  deceive  her  attendants, 
should  any  be  within  hearing ;  and  this  they  would  of  course  deem 
an  aggravation  of  her  offence.  It  is  hardly  worth  the  while  to 
add,  that  they  would  be  in  no  danger  of  supposing  the  man, 
whom  Margaret  termed  Claudio,  to  be  Claudio  in  fact. 


138 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Notes 

Scene  III. 

[Enter  Benedick.]  In  the  original,  both  Quarto  and  Folio,  the 
stage  direction  here  is,  "  Enter  Benedick  alone  "  ;  in  all  modern 
editions  till  Collier's  it  is,  "  Enter  Benedick  and  a  Boy."  The  orig- 
inal IS  probably  right,  the  design  being  that  Benedick  shall  be 
seen  pacing  to  and  fro,  ruminating  and  digesting  the  matter  of  his 
forthcoming  soliloquy.  In  this  state  his  mind  gets  so  deep  in 
philosophy  that  he  wants  a  book  to  feed  the  appetite  which 
passing  events  have  awakened.  Of  course  the  boy  comes  when 
called  for. 

i8,  19.  carving  .  .  .  doublet: — This  folly  is  the  theme  of  all 
comic  satire.  In  Barnabe  Riche's  Faults  and  Nothing  but  Faults, 
1606,  "  the  fashionmonger  that  spends  his  time  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  suites  "  is  said  to  have  "  a  sad  and  heavy  countenance," 
because  his  tailor  "  hath  cut  his  new  sute  after  the  olde  stampe  of 
some  stale  fashion  that  is  at  the  least  of  a  whole  fortnight's  stand- 
ing." 

36,  37.  Iier  hair,  etc. : — Disguises  of  false  hair  and  of  dyed  hair 
were  quite  common,  especially  among  the  ladies,  in  Shakespeare's 
time;  scarce  any  of  them  being  so  richly  dowered  with  other 
gifts  as  to  be  content  with  the  hair  which  it  had  pleased  Nature 
to  bestow.  The  Poet  has  several  passages  going  to  show  that  this 
custom  was  not  much  in  favour  with  him;  as  in  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  IV.  iii.,  where  Biron  "  mourns  that  painting  and  usurping 
hair  should  ravish  doters  with  a  false  aspect."  That  in  this  as  in 
other  things  Shakespeare's  mind  went  with  Nature,  further  ap- 
pears from  his  making  so  sensible  a  fellow  as  Benedick  talk  that 
way. 

60-62.  A  similar  tribute  to  the  power  of  music  occurs  in 
Twelfth  Night,  II.  iii.  59,  60,  where  it  is  spoken  of  as  able  to 
"  draw  three  souls  out  of  one  weaver." 

95.  stalk  on: — An  allusion  to  the  stalking-horse,  whereby  the 
fowler  anciently  screened  himself  from  the  sight  of  the  game. 
It  is  thus  described  in  John  Gee's  Nezv  Shreds  of  the  Old  Snare: 
"  Methinks  I  behold  the  cunning  fowler,  such  as  I  have  known  in 
the  fen-countries  and  elsewhere,  that  do  shoot  at  woodcocks, 
snipes,  and  wild  fowl,  by  sneaking  behind  a  painted  cloth  which 
they  carry  before  them,  having  pictured  on  it  the  shape  of  a  horse ; 
which  while  the  silly  fowl  gazeth  on,  it  is  knocked  down  with 
hail-shot,  and  so  put  into  the  fowler's  budget." 


139 


Notes  MUCH  ADO 

ACT  THIRD. 

Scene  I. 

6i.  spell  him  backward: — That  is,  misinterpret  him.  An  allu- 
sion to  the  practice  of  witches  in  uttering  prayers.  In  like  sort, 
we  often  say  of  a  man  who  refuses  to  take  things  in  their  plain 
natural  meaning,  as  if  he  were  on  the  lookout  for  some  cheat, 
"  He  reads  everything  backwards." 

76.  press  me  to  death: — The  allusion  is  to  an  ancient  punish- 
ment inflicted  on  those  who  refused  to  plead  to  an  indictment.  If 
they  continued  silent,  they  were  pressed  to  death  by  heavy  weights 
laid  on  the  stomach. 

107.  What  Hre  is  in  mine  ears? — Alluding  to  the  proverbial 
saying,  which  is  as  old  as  Pliny's  time,  "  That  when  our  ears  do 
glow  and  tingle,  some  there  be  that  in  our  absence  do  talke 
of  us." 

113.  Taming,  etc.: — This  image  is  taken  from  falconry.  She 
has  been  charged  with  being  as  wild  as  Jiaggards  of  the  rock ; 
she  therefore  says  that,  wild  as  her  heart  is,  she  will  tame  it  to 
the  hand. 

Scene  II. 

II.  hangman: — That  is,  executioner,  slayer  of  hearts. 

21.  the  toothache : — So  in  The  False  One,  by  Fletcher : — 

"  O,  this  sounds  mangily. 
Poorly,  and  scurvily,  in  a  soldier's  mouth ! 
You  had  best  be  troubled  with  the  tooth-ache  too. 
For  lovers  ever  are." 

24,  25.  hang  it  first,  and  draw  it  afterwards: — Apparently  a 
quibbling  allusion  to  the  old  custom  of  "hanging,  drawing,  and 
quartering." 

34,  35.  two  countries  at  once: — So  in  The  Seven  Deadly  Sinnes 
of  London,  by  Dekker,  1606 :  "  For  an  Englishman's  sute  is  like  a 
traitor's  body  that  hath  beene  hanged,  drawne,  and  quartered,  and 
is  set  up  in  several  places :  his  codpiece,  in  Denmarke ;  the  collar 
of  his  dublet  and  the  belly,  in  France ;  the  wing  and  narrow  sleeve, 
in  Italy;  the  short  waste  hangs  over  a  botcher's  stall  in  Utrich; 
his  huge  sloppes  speak  Spanish;  Polonia  gives  him  the  bootes," 
etc. 

140 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Notes 

58.  a  lutestring : — Love-songs,  in  Shakespeare's  time,  were 
sung  to  the  lute.    So  in  i  Henry  IV.,  I.  ii.  ^i:  "  A  lover's  lute." 

67.  buried  with  her  face  upwards: — That  is,  in  her  lover's  arms. 
So  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  IV.  iv.  129-132: — 

Flo.  What,  like  a  corse? 

Per.  No,  like  a  bank  for  love  to  lie  and  play  on; 

Not  like  a  corse ;  or  if,  not  to  be  buried 

But  quick  and  in  mine  arms. 

Scene  III. 

{Dogberry  and  Verges]  The  first  of  these  worthies  is  named 
from  the  dogberry,  a  shrub  that  grows  in  every  county  in  Eng- 
land.    Verges  is  the  provincial  pronunciation  of  verjuice. 

7.  give  them  their  charge : — To  charge  his  fellows  seems  to 
have  been  a  regular  part  of  the  duty  of  the  constable  of  the  watch. 
So  in  A  New  Trick  to  Cheat  the  Devil,  1639:  "  My  watch  is  set — 
charge  given — and  all  at  peace." 

176.  a'  wears  a  lock : — A  lock  of  hair,  called  "  a  love-lock,"  was 
often  worn  by  the  gay  young  gallants  of  Shakespeare's  time. 
This  ornament  and  invitation  to  love  was  cherished  with  great 
care  by  the  owners,  being  brought  before  and  tied  with  a  riband. 
Prynne,  the  great  Puritan  hero,  spit  some  of  his  bile  against  this 
fashion,  in  a  book  on  The  Unloveliness  of  Love-locks. 

183,  184.  We  are  like  to  prove,  etc. : — We  have  the  same  conceit 
in  2  Henry  VL,  IV,  vii.  129,  130:  "My  lord,  when  shall  we  go 
to  Cheapside  and  take  up  commodities  upon  our  bills?  " 

Scene   IV. 

19.  dozvn  sleeves:— Th2it  is,  with  pearls  set  along  down  the 
sleeves.  Side  sleeves  are  long,  full  sleeves.  Side  is  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon  sid,  long,  ample.  Peele,  in  his  Old  Wives'  Tale, 
has  "  side  slops,"  for  long  trousers.  So  likewise,  in  Jonson's  play, 
The  New  Inn,  V.  i. : — 

"  He  belly'd  for  it,  had  his  velvet  sleeves. 
And  his  branch'd  cassock,  a  side  sweeping  gown, 
All  his  formalities,  a  good  cramm'd  divine." 

Our  word  side,  in  its  ordinary  use,  has  reference  to  the  length 
of  the  thing  to  which  it  is  applied. 

141 


Notes  MUCH  ADO 

53.  For  the  letter,  etc. : — For  here  means  because  of.  Heywood 
has  an  epigram  which  elucidates  the  identity  in  pronunciation 
between  the  word  ache  and  the  letter  H : — 

"  H  is  worst  among  letters  in  the  cross-row, 
For  if  thou  find  him  either  in  thine  elbow, 
In  thine  arm  or  leg,  in  any  degree ; 
In  thine  head,  or  teeth,  or  toe,  or  knee ; 
Into  what  place  soever  HT  may  pike  him, 
Wherever  thou  find  him  ache  thou  shalt  not  like  him." 

70,  71.  Cardutts  Bcnedictus: — The  following  is  from  Cogan's 
Haven  of  Health,  1595:  "This  herb,  for  the  singular  virtue  it 
hath,  is  worthily  named  Bcnedictus,  or  Omnimorbia,  than  is,  a 
salve  for  every  sore,  not  known  to  the  physicians  of  old  time,  but 
lately  revealed  by  the  special  providence  of  Almighty  God." 

Scene  V. 

I  et  seq.  What  would  you,  etc. : — "  Under  ordinary  conditions," 
says  Herford,  "  the  discovery  must  follow  at  once.  Hero  would 
be  vindicated  before  the  marriage,  and  the  whole  scheme  of  the 
drama  would  dissolve.  It  was  necessary  that  the  discovery  should 
be  foreseen  when  that  otherwise  too  harrowing  scene  takes  place, 
but  that  it  should  not  be  actually  made.  This  double  result  is 
secured  by  the  admirable  creations  of  Dogberry  and  Verges. 
Even  Coleridge  could  regard  them  as  somewhat  irrelevant  figures 
'  forced  into  the  service '  of  the  plot,  '  when  any  other  less  in- 
geniously absurd  watchmen  and  night  constables  would  have 
answered  the  mere  necessities  of  the  action.'  But  the  gist  of  the 
invention  lies  just  in  their  being  'ingeniously  absurd'  in  the  par- 
ticular way  in  which  they  are.  Nothing  but  their  delicious  irrele- 
vance prevents  the  truth  from  reaching  Leonato  in  time ;  but — 
*  neighbours,  you  are  tedious,'  and  he  hands  over  the  '  two  as- 
picious  persons '  who  hold  his  daughter's  fate  in  their  hands  to 
the  constable's  leisurely  '  excommunication.'  The  very  figure  of 
Dogberry  is  reassuring;  evil  cannot  be  rampant  in  a  city  which 
he  and  his  '  most  quiet  watchmen '  sufficiently  protect,  nor  the 
story  finally  disastrous  to  which  he  contributes  a  link.  It  is  a 
part  of  the  irony,  grave  but  not  ^t  bitter,  which  underlies  the 
play,  that  in  this  community  of  brilliantly  accomplished  men  and 
women,  it  is  not  by  dint  of  wk  but  through  the  blind  channels 
of   accident   and   unreason   that   the    discovery   makes   its    way. 

142 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Notes 

'What  your  wisdoms,'  as  Borachio  says,  'could  not  discover, 
these  shallow  fools  have  brought  to  light.' " 

21.  the  poor  duke's  officers: — This  stroke  of  pleasantry,  arising 
from  the  transposition  of  the  epithet  poor,  occurs  in  Measure  for 
Measure.  Elbow  says,  "  If  it  please  your  honour,  I  am  the  poor 
Duke's  constable." 

38.  a  world  to  see : — This  was  a  common  apostrophe  of  admira- 
tion, equivalent  to  it  is  wonderful,  or  it  is  admirable.  Baret  in  his 
Alvearie,  1580,  explains  "It  is  a  world  to  heare"  by  "It  is  a 
thing  worthie  the  hearing,  audire  est  operoe  pretium."  In  Caven- 
dish's Life  of  Wolsey  we  have  "  Is  it  not  a  world  to  consider?  " 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

11-13.  If  either  of  you  know,  etc.: — This  is  borrowed  from  the 
marriage  ceremony,  which  (with  a  few  changes  in  phraseology) 
is  the  same  as  was  used  in  Shakespeare's  time. 

21,  22.  some  be  of  laughing,  etc. : — Benedick  is  in  a  grammatical 
state  of  mind,  and  here  quotes  from  his  accidence. 

68.  True!  O  God! — Hero's  words  are  in  reply  to  the  speech  of 
Don  John. 

74.  kindly : — Kind  is  often  used  in  Shakespeare  for  nature, 
kindly  for  natural.  So  in  the  Induction  to  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  i.  66:  "This  do,  and  do  it  kindly,  gentle  sirs."  So  like- 
wise in  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene  : — 

"  The  earth  shall  sooner  leave  her  kindly  skill 
To  bring  forth  fruit,  and  make  eternall  dearth. 
Than  I  leave  you,  my  life,  yborne  of  heavenly  birth." 

123.  The  story,  etc. : — That  is,  the  story  which  her  blushes  dis- 
covered to  be  true. 

250,  251.  Of  this  passage  Johnson  says:  "  This  is  one  of  Shake- 
speare's subtle  observations  upon  life.  Men,  overpowered  with 
distress,  eagerly  listen  to  the  first  offers  of  relief,  close  with  every 
scheme,  and  believe  every  promise.  He  that  has  no  longer  any 
confidence  in  himself  is  glad  to  repose  his  trust  in  any  other  that 
will  undertake  to  guide  him." 

293.  /  am  gone,  though  I  am  here: — That  is,  though  my  person 
stay  with  you,  my  heart  is  gone  from  you. 

143 


Notes  MUCH  ADO 

ACT  FIFTH. 

Scene  I. 

I  et  seq.  "  I  step  aside  for  a  moment,"  says  Lloyd,  "  to  remark 
the  comic  value  of  the  character  of  Antonio,  so  often  doomed  to 
be  neglected  and  left  out.  Leonato,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
fifth  Act,  is  immersed  in  grief  for  the  disgrace  of  his  child,  but 
the  spectator  already  knows  thafthis  grief  will  speedily  be  allayed 
by  the  publication  of  her  innocence,  and  the  additional  knowledge 
that  he  is  bound  to  exaggerate  consciously  the  expression  of  his 
grief  by  the  pretence  of  her  death,  still  farther  checks  the  spon- 
taneousness  of  our  compassion.  Sympathy  is  balked  and  puzzled, 
and  would  rebel  in  affront,  but  that  the  Poet  furnishes  a  fair 
excuse  for  the  laugh  which  incongruity  invites,  by  the  grotesque 
comicality  of  the  indignation  of  Antonio.  With  like  humanity, 
in  the  scene  where  the  sleeping  Juliet  is  mourned  by  her  parents 
as  dead,  a  vent  for  our  importunate  sense  of  absurdity  is  supplied 
in  the  ludicrously  exaggerated  wailings  of  the  nurse.  In  the 
present  instance  there  is  great  comic  truth  in  the  interchange  of 
position  by  the  brothers  in  the  course  of  the  Scene.  At  the  com- 
mencement Antonio  ministers  as  best  he  may  in  the  character  of 
moralist  and  philosopher  to  the  excitement  of  his  brother,  and 
at  the  conclusion  it  is  he  himself  who  has  to  be  held  back  and 
soothed  by  Leonato,  in  a  violent  outburst  of  passionate  abuse." 

i8.  candle-wasters: — The  following  passage  occurs  in  Ben  Jon- 
son's  Cynthia's  Revels,  IIL  ii. :  "  Heart,  was  there  ever  so  pros- 
perous an  invention  thus  unluckily  perverted  and  spoiled  by  a 
whoreson  book-worm,  a  candle-waster?  "  Leonato's  whole  speech 
is  aimed  at  those  comforters  who  moralize  by  the  book  against 
our  natural  emotions ;  who  would  have  us  drown  our  troubles  in 
a  cup  of  bookish  philosophy. 

102.  wake  your  patience : — That  is,  rouse,  stir  up,  convert  your 
patience  into  anger,  by  remaining  longer  in  your  presence. 

128,  129.  bid  thee  drazv,  etc. : — "  I  will  bid  thee  draw  thy  sword, 
as  we  bid  the  minstrels  draw  the  bows  of  their  fiddles,  merely 
to  please  us." 

139.  broke  cross : — It  was  held  very  disgraceful  for  a  tilter  to 
have  his  spear  broken  across  the  body  of  his  adversary,  instead 
bf  by  a  push  of  the  point.  Thus,  in  As  You  Like  It,  III.  iv.  42-44: 
"As  a  puisny  tilter,  that  spurs  his  horse  but  on  one  side,  breaks 
his  staff  like  a  noble  goose." 

144 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Notes 

142.  to  turn  his  girdle : — Thus  Sir  Ralph  Winwood  in  a  letter 
to  Cecil :  "  I  said,  what  I  spake  was  not  to  make  him  angry.  He 
replied,  If  I  were  angry,  I  might  turn  the  buckle  of  my  girdle 
behind  me."  The  phrase  came  from  the  practice  of  wrestlers, 
and  is  thus  explained  by  Holt  White:  "Large  belts  were  worn 
with  the  buckle  before,  but  for  wrestling  the  buckle  was  turned 
behind,  to  give  the  adversary  a  fairer  grasp  at  the  girdle.  To  turn 
the  buckle  behind  was  therefore  a  challenge." 

157.  A  woodcock  was  a  common  term  for  a  foolish  fellow; 
that  savoury  bird  being  supposed  to  have  no  brains.  Claudio 
alludes  to  the  stratagem  whereby  Benedick  has  been  made  to  fall 
in  love.  Thus  Sir  William  Cecil,  in  a  letter  to  Secretary  Mait- 
land,  referring  to  an  attempted  escape  of  some  French  hostages : 
"  I  went  to  lay  some  lime-twigs  for  certain  woodcocks,  which  I 
have  taken."  The  proverbial  simplicity  of  the  woodcock  is  often 
celebrated  by  Shakespeare. 

228,  229.  one  meaning  well  suited: — That  is,  one  meaning  put 
into  many  different  dresses;  the  prince  having  asked  the  same 
question  in  four  modes  of  speech. 

290.  It  was  the  custom  to  attach,  upon  or  near  the  tombs  of 
celebrated  persons,  a  written  inscription,  either  in  prose  or  verse, 
generally  in  praise  of  the  deceased. 

296.  she  alone  is  heir  to  both  of  us: — It  would  seem  that  An- 
tonio's son,  mentioned  in  I.  ii.,  must  have  died  since  the  play 
began. 

Scene  II. 

77.  the  time  of  good  neighbours: — That  is,  when  men  were  not 
envious,  but  every  one  gave  another  his  due. 

Scene  III. 

3.  Done  to  death  : — This  phrase  occurs  frequently  in  writers  of 
Shakespeare's  time:  it  appears  to  be  derived  from  the  French 
phrase,  faire  mourir. 

13.  thy  virgin  knight: — Knight  was  a  common  poetical  appella- 
tion of -virgins  in  Shakespeare's  time;  probably  in  allusion  to 
their  being  the  votarists  of  Diana,  whose  chosen  pastime  was  in 
knightly  sports.     So  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  V.  i. : — 

"  O,  sacred,  shadowy,  cold,  and  constant  queen, 
Abandoner  of  revels,  mute,  contemplative, 

145 


Notes  MUCH  ADO 

Sweet,  solitary,  white  as  chaste,  and  pure 
As  wind-fann'd  snow,  who  to  thy  female  knights 
Allow'st  no  more  blood  than  will  make  a  blush, 
Which  is  their  order's  robe." 

Scene  IV. 

43.  the  savage  hull: — Still  alluding  to  the  passage  quoted  from 
Kyd's  Spanish  Tragedy,  in  the  first  Scerie  of  the  play. 

123,  124.  no  staff  more  reverend,  etc. : — This  passage  refers  to 
the  staves  or  walking-sticks  used  by  elderly  persons,  which  were 
often  tipped  with  horn.  Chaucer's  Sompnour  describes  one  of 
his  friars  as  having  a  "  scrippe  and  tipped  staff"',  and  he  adds 
that  "  His  felaw  had  a  staf  tipped  with  horn." 


146 


ABOUT  NOTHING 

Questions  on 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

1.  Mention  some  facts  that  help  to  establish  the  date  of  the  play. 
From  wiiat  Italian  sources  may  some  of  the  incidents  have  been 
derived? 

ACT  FIRST. 

2.  How  is  it  shown  in  the  first  Scene  that  the  play  will  deal 
with  love  as  a  warfare? 

3.  What  unconscious  confession  does  Beatrice  make  in  her  in- 
quiries of  the  messenger  concerning  Benedick? 

4.  Was  Benedick  loved  by  women?    How  does  one  find  it  out? 

5.  How  is  his  speech  on  the  subject  answered  by  Beatrice? 

6.  What  may  be  assumed  as  the  previous  relations  of  Benedick 
and  Beatrice  accounting  for  their  attitudes  in  the  opening  Scene? 

7.  Describe  the  way  Claudio  introduces  the  subject  of  his  love 
for  Hero  to  Benedick  and  to  Don  Pedro. 

8.  What  arrangement  is  made  between  Don  Pedro  and  Claudio 
to  further  the  latter's  suit? 

9.  Concerning  Hero's  love  affair,  what  blunder  is  made  by 
Antonio,  and  how  does  he  support  his  case? 

10.  Don  John  gives  what  account  of  himself  in  the  third  Scene? 
Why  is  his  character  so  definitely  drawn  thus  early  in  the  play? 

11.  What  third  version  of  the  Hero  intrigue  do  we  gain  from 
Borachio? 

12.  What  lines  of  action  are  laid  down  in  the  first  Act  that 
prove  the  title  of  Much  Ado? 

ACT  SECOND. 

13.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  the  dialogue  preceding  the 
entrance  of  the  revelers? 

147 


Questions  MUCH  ADO 

14.  Show  how  It  is  made  apparent  that  Hero  is  one  ruled  by 
her  father.    Compare  her  with  Ophelia. 

15.  What  is  the  character  of  the  scene  that  follows  the  dia- 
logue? 

16.  Indicate  the  import  of  the  conversation  between  Hero  and 
Don  Pedro ;  between  Ursula  and  Antonio. 

17.  What  impression  of  Margaret  is  derived  from  her  interview 
with  Balthasar? 

18.  Did  Beatrice  recognize  her  vis-a-vis  in  the  masked  scene? 

19.  Explain  the  triple  misconstruction  in  the  scene  between 
Don  John  and  Claudio. 

20.  What  important  point  in  the  plot  is  marked  by  the  soliloquy 
of  Claudio? 

21.  Comment  on  the  spirit  of  Benedick's  reply  to  Claudio,  Sc.  i. 

195. 

22.  Your  estimate  of  Claudio  as  he  has  so  far  revealed  himself. 

23.  State  the  various  misunderstandings  of  the  love  affair  of 
Claudio  and  Hero.  What  single  character  is  following  the  thread 
of  it  with  a  clear  apprehension  of  the  real  facts  ? 

24.  Cite  from  Hamlet  an  expression  similar  to  Benedick's  (line 
251)  she  would  infect  to  the  nortJi  star. 

25.  Explain  the  dramatic  significance  of  the  moment  when 
Beatrice  says  (line  308)  Speak,  count,  'tis  your  cue. 

26.  Where  in  the  play  do  the  words  of  Beatrice  to  Hero  (line 
313)  rebound  upon  herself? 

27.  Characterize  the  traits  of  Beatrice,  displayed  in  the  closing 
parts  of  the  first  Scene. 

28.  What  scheme  is  proposed  and  agreed  to  at  the  close  of  this 
Scene? 

29.  Detail  the  plot  laid  to  put  a  blight  upon  Hero.  Who  de- 
vised it? 

30.  Compare  the  intellectual  qualities  of  Don  John  and  of  lago. 

31.  Explain  the  change  of  attitude  of  Benedick  as  shown  in  the 
two  soliloquies  in  Sc.  iii.  How  does  the  device  by  which  Benedick 
comes  to  a  knowledge  of  Beatrice's  regard  for  him  ally  itself  with 
other  devices  of  the  rising  action?  Who  is  the  author  of  this 
stratagem? 

S2.  At  the  close  of  the  Scene,  fiow  do  Beatrice  and  Benedick 
exemplify  the  characters  that  have  been  attributed  to  them?  What 
saves  Benedick  from  a  fatuousness  similar  to  that  of  Malvolio  ? 


148 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Questions 

ACT  THIRD. 

S3.  Compare  the  stratagem  as  wrought  by  the  men  on  Benedick 
with  that  worked  by  Hero  and  Ursula  on  Beatrice.  What  traits 
natural  to  each  sex  are  displayed?  What  touch  of  irony  in  Hero's 
words  ? 

34.  Compare  Beatrice's  soliloquy  after  the  practised  stratagem 
with  Benedick's.  Indicate  the  comic  element  of  the  situation. 
What  indications  have  we  that  the  stratagem,  as  concerns  Bene- 
dick, has  been  effectual  ? 

35.  What  temper  of  mind  do  you  find  in  Claudio  upon  the  eve 
of  the  revelations  concerning  Hero? 

36.  Contrast  the  manner  of  Claudio  and  of  Don  Pedro  upon 
hearing  the  revelations  of  Don  John, 

37.  What  is  the  humorous  effect  of  Sc.  iii?  Indicate  its  dra- 
matic purpose. 

38.  Mention  some  traits  possessed  in  common  by  Dogberry  and 
Shallow  (Merry  Wives). 

39.  What  part  in  the  action  do  the  watchmen  play? 

40.  On  what  ground  were  Borachio  and  Conrade  apprehended? 
What  is  there  essentially  comic  in  this  Scene? 

41.  Account  for  the  mood  of  Beatrice  in  Sc.  iv.  How  does 
Margaret's  wit  compare  with  that  of  Beatrice? 

42.  On  what  purpose  bent  did  Dogberry  and  Verges  (Sc.  v.) 
visit  the  house  of  Leonato? 

43.  How  does  Sc.  v.  suggest  a  way  by  which  the  tragic  con- 
sequences of  the  fourth  Act  might  have  been  averted? 

44.  Yet  is  not  the  development  of  the  plot  at  this  point  abso- 
lutely convincing?    Is  there  an  effect  here  of  a  postponed  climax? 


ACT  FOURTH. 

45.  Comment  on  the  art  with  which  Shakespeare  has  made  the 
conduct  of  Claudio  at  the  altar  tolerable  from  an  artistic  point  of 
view. 

46.  What  earlier  situations  are  only  sketched  or  reported  that 
might  have  been  brought  into  the  action? 

47.  What  causes  Hero  finally  to  swoon? 

48.  Who  among  the  company  believe  in  her  innocence? 

49.  By  what  art  does  Shakespeare  bring  Benedick  and  Beatrice 
to  the  point  of  mutual  avowal  of  love? 

149 


Questions  MUCH  ADO 

50.  Comment  on  the  difference  between  art  and  nature,  using 
as  a  basis  the  long  speech  that  Leonato  delivers  over  the  lifeless 
body  of  Hero. 

51.  What  expedient  is  employed  to  gain  time  for  proving  the 
innocence  of  Hero? 

52.  Compare  the  Friar  of  this  play  with  that  in  Romeo  and 
Juliet. 

53.  What  two  things  demand  that  the  scene  of  vindication  fol- 
low closely  upon  the  scene  of  accusation? 

54.  State  the  problem  that  the  resolution  of  the  plot  has  to  deal 
with. 

ACT  FIFTH. 

55.  What  impression  do  the  lamentations  of  Leonato  make  upon 
you? 

56.  Show  how  the  case  of  Leonato  suggests  materials  of  tragic 
grief,  and  yet  in  actuality  falls  short  of  displaying  it. 

57.  Describe  the  quarrel  between  Leonato  and  Claudio. 

58.  What  is  the  bearing  of  Claudio  in  the  encounter  with  Bene- 
dick? 

59.  In  the  banter  of  Claudio  and  Don  Pedro,  what  echo  is  there 
of  an  earlier  scene?    Is  this  a  dramatic  expedient? 

60.  Where  else  in  the  last  Act  do  you  find  use  of  such  an  ex- 
pedient? 

61.  What  art  consistent  with  comedy  makes  Borachio  untie 
the  knot  ? 

62.  Define  Dogberry's  position  in  relation  to  the  resolution  of 
the  plot. 

63.  Comment  on  Borachio's  justification  of  Margaret  (lines 
307-309). 

64.  Define  the  episodic  purpose  of  Sc.  iii. 

65.  Outline  the  last  Scene  of  the  play. 

66.  Do  the  repentance  of  Claudio  and  Don  Pedro,  and  the  for- 
giveness of  Leonato  satisfactorily  account  for  the  change  in  the 
natural  conclusion  of  the  story? 

67.  Account  for  the  happy  ending. 

68.  Has  Claudio  proved  worthy  of  the  great  gift  that  is  be- 
stowed upon  him? 


69.  Comment  upon  the  structural  perfection  of  this  play. 

70.  What  about  its  adaptability  to  stage  representation? 

ISO 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Questions 

71.  Comment  upon  its  wit.  How  does  it  compare,  for  instance, 
with  that  of  Measure  for  Measure  ? 

72.  What  change  in  the  tone  of  social  intercourse  do  we  observe 
between  Shakespeare's  era  and  our  own? 

73.  Wherein  resides  the  great  charm  of  Beatrice?  What  are 
her  splendid  womanly  qualities? 

74.  Critics  have  disagreed  as  to  the  probable  happy  marriage. 
What  is  your  prophecy? 

75.  Do  you  think  highly  of  Benedick?  Had  he  a  chivalrous 
nature?  Had  he  been  penetrating,  would  he  not  have  seen  the 
real  drift  of  Beatrice's  persecutions? 

76.  To  what  things  was  Claudio's  nature  especially  sensitive? 
What  were  his  limitations? 

yy.  Where  does  Beatrice  point  out  his  gravest  misdemeanor? 

78.  Is  there  any  dramatic  purpose  in  creating  Hero  as  one  lack- 
ing in  positive  qualities  ? 

79.  Estimate  the  character  of  Don  Pedro;  of  Borachio;  of 
Margaret. 

80.  Show  the  fitness  of  the  title,  Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

81.  How  does  the  drama  differ  from  the  novel  in  respect  to 
the  degree  in  which  mystery  may  be  employed  to  shroud  the  true 
course  of  events? 

82.  While  dealing  with  a  harrowing  episode  like  the  plot 
against  Hero,  how  does  Shakespeare  all  along  convey  the  feeling 
that  things  will  come  out  well? 


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